


Bad Romance

by kinderjedi, sullacat



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: F/M, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-14
Updated: 2014-11-14
Packaged: 2018-02-25 07:37:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 26,435
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2613677
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kinderjedi/pseuds/kinderjedi, https://archiveofourown.org/users/sullacat/pseuds/sullacat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Darcy Lewis moved to New York, she didn't expect to run into an old crush, or meet someone new who (literally) swept her off her feet.</p><p>Clint Barton was the jackbooted thug she'd eyed in New Mexico, but underneath that cocky, self-assured exterior was a lonely, vulnerable man. Their connection quickly deepened from sassy to surprisingly tender. Meanwhile, all-American hero Steve Rogers was a good boy on the surface, but as Darcy got to know him she realized that there was more to Steve than that apple pie image he let the world see. Their relationship burned hot, but would that be enough?</p><p>She wasn't looking for romance, yet found herself a) in a love triangle between two best friends and b) taking advice from Tony Stark.</p><p>Surprisingly, it did not, in fact, blow up in her face.</p><p>The majority of the fic takes place in post-TWS New York City.</p><p>Inspired by the movie <i>This Means War.</i></p><p>For Marvel Bang 2014. Check out the gorgeous art by paynesgrey  <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/2614118">here</a>!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

"What do you hear?"

The receiver crackled in Steve's right ear. "The guys at that table said that Intel's profits next quarter are gonna surprise some people," Clint murmured, his voice low as he got up from the high stakes poker table, all his chips gone. "Profits up forty-five percent this quarter."

Steve glanced around from his spot in the casino's balcony, the gaming floor below filled with the rich and famous of Singapore. "Good time to start investing then. What with SHIELD falling apart, I might need a retirement plan," he said quietly into his microphone cuff links as he searched the floor for faces. SHIELD hadn't really disbanded - Phil Coulson had stepped in, collected everyone who was left, anyone he could find, and was rebuilding, slowly. "I don't know how you do this all the time," he added, tugging at the stiff collar of his shirt.

"You can see more from the top."

Steve laughed. "I mean the tuxedo." The view from upstairs took some time getting used to as well, being the one who scouted out the information for others. Steve liked to lead from the front, his soldiers following him into battle. This was a different sort of soldiering altogether, and they'd decided that Steve might be just a little too recognizable, even all the way out here in this part of the world. 

Clint blended in a little better, even in a thousand dollar tux, making his way through the most exclusive gaming tables in the Far East. The entire place was festively decorated with glittering holiday decor, which somehow just added to the general atmosphere of wealth. "Knock knock," Clint murmured, jogging up the stairs, away from the gaming tables.

"Who's there," Steve answered, the corners of his mouth quirking, watching as Clint headed his way.

"Howie."

Everyday, another joke. "Howie who?" he asked, eyes trained on the door.

Clint slid next to him smoothly, leaning against the balcony rail. "Howie gonna hide this body once we take out this guy?"

"One thing at a time," Steve answered, checking his watch. The target should have been here by now. "What do you think?"

"Twenty minutes, and we leave. Shouldn't linger, don't want anyone here remembering us if we have to come back." A long moment passed before Clint spoke again. "You think he'll show up?"

Steve took a deep breath. He knew who Clint was talking about - and it wasn't their target, some rich kid spending his daddy's money collecting Asgardian artifacts. "...probably not," he said, staring out over the rich red and gold decor of the casino. Winter Soldier hadn't been spotted in three months, not since he took out an abandoned department store in Prague, the cover for Eastern Europe's last HYDRA base. 

Since both SHIELD and Bucky - no, _Winter Soldier_ , Steve reminded himself - since they were both targeting the same bad guys, their paths occasionally crossed, and twice they'd actually spotted him while on their mission.

"One of these days, Cap." Steve looked up to see a thoughtful expression on Clint's face. "I just hope when you find him...well," Clint shrugged, as if not sure what to say. 

But he knew what Clint meant - once Steve found the Winter Soldier, there was still that chance that his friend was lost forever. But it was something to think about another day. Clint clapped Steve on the shoulder. "Twenty minutes," he reminded Steve, then headed back down the stairs. 

Steve watched Clint blend back into the background as he headed toward the back balcony, eyes open and scanning. Never in a million years would he be as good as Clint at this undercover work. Steve just wasn't built to sit and watch. 

But Steve's observation skills matched well with Clint's, enough so that they'd become quite a decent pair together, and Steve genuinely enjoyed Clint's company. "Talk to me, Hawk."

"Checking out the balcony, then once more on the game floor and then we can-"

Clint stopped talking. "We can what-" Steve asked, confused. 

But the next voice he heard coming from Barton's microphone wasn't Clint. "Well as I live and breathe. I thought you were dead, Hawkeye."

"Sorry to disappoint," he heard Clint reply in a cool, even voice. "Can't say I was surprised to hear you were HYDRA all along, Rollins." 

Steve's ears perked up at that, as he began walking quickly toward the stairs, heading down without trying to make a scene. 

Rollins, that name rang a bell. Brock Rumlow's second, and another piece of shit ex-SHIELD agent who turned out to be HYDRA. Fuck. If Rollins was here, that meant their original target had been tipped off. "Aborting the mission right now, coming to get you, Clint," Steve said into his sleeve as he moved faster toward the balcony.

"We'd've asked you to join us," he heard as Rollins continued, "but you're a real asshole, Barton. We took a poll and no one wanted you around, sorry."

"Really hurts my feelings," Clint replied flippantly. "But you kept your SHIELD sidearm, that's sweet. I'll be taking that from you now-" 

Steve turned the corner onto the large balcony overlooking Singapore harbor, empty except for the two of them. Rollins was dressed in a simple dark suit, pushing what looked like a gun discreetly into Clint's abdomen and trying not to draw too much attention to them. Pulling his own gun from his shoulder holster, Steve quietly waved off a couple who were heading outside for some fresh air, and stepped out where both men could see him. 

"Put the gun on the ground," Steve said, catching Clint's eye briefly, making sure his partner was safe. 

"Sorry, Cap," Rollins replied, not taking his eyes off of Clint. "But I got a score to settle with this one here." 

"And then I kill you, and then your friend Rumlow comes after me, and things'll get messy. But you'll be dead, so what does it matter?" Steve told him, his voice low and cold as he approached. "It doesn't end well for you unless you give up right now."

"You kill me? Captain America?" Rollins turned his head slightly at look at Steve, his face showing what he thought about that. "I'll take my chances."

"Someone's been underground too long," Clint shook his head, getting Rollins' attention again. "Second mistake you made tonight."

"And the first?"

"Coming here alone."

Rollins laughed. "Who says I'm alone?" All of a sudden, the balcony was flooded with bright light, and Steve saw that a spotlight shone down on the three of them, followed by those red laser dot sights, two on Clint's chest, and one on his own. "Bye Hawkeye, Cap. Been nice knowing you." 

Snipers must have been hiding in the high rise skyscrapers surrounding the casino. Steve knew then that their cover must have been blown long before they stepped into the casino. _They knew we were here._ Just then Rollins took off running for the casino doors, and Steve followed, pulling Clint with him toward the balcony doorway as the bullets hitting the marble balcony railings, bits of stone ricocheting everywhere. People inside the casino screamed, growing louder when Rollins ran inside, aimed at the ceiling and fired at the giant glass chandeliers and security camera. "You hit?" Steve asked Clint, who'd drawn his own gun and was shooting in the direction of the sniper's lights.

"Don't think so," Clint answered, slightly out of breath. "You?"

"Don't think so," Steve repeated, stepping out of the doorway and shooting at the lights as well. He wasn't sure what was more chaotic, the rifle fire peppering the balcony or the people inside the casino, screaming. "Cover me," Steve crouched low, sliding a fresh clip into his side piece when- "Behind you!"

Too late. Rollins barreled into Clint's side, and Steve watched in horror as they rolled onto the ground, both of them reaching for Clint's gun, lying just beyond their grasp. All of a sudden, the air was filled with the sound of helicopter rotors growing louder and Steve knew, he _knew_ who that shadowy shape was hanging out the side, first shooting at the snipers, then aiming what looked like a grenade launcher at them. 

"Clint!" he called out, but there was no way Clint could hear, not with the noise or with Rollins on top of him. Then _BOOM_ , the sound of the gun went off, and Steve's eyes widened as the entire shelf of the balcony began to crack under their feet. 

Steve watched in horror as they both fell over the side. Crawling to the ledge, his heart stuck in his throat as he spotted Clint, bleeding and covered in dust, hanging from a piece of rebar sticking out of what used to be the balcony. 

Rollins was gone.

"Barton!" Steve called out, laying down and reaching for Clint. "Grab my hand!" He pulled Clint's arm until both men were safely on the edge of what was left of the balcony, breathing deeply. Steve could hear the blaring of car alarms, cars crashing into each other on the street below, and he didn't need to look up to know that the helicopter was rapidly flying away. _Bucky._

Clint groaned. "Hail HYDRA," he murmured as they looked down, pieces of the balcony continuing to fall, cars crashing into each other on the street below. "Holy fuck that was a close one." Rolling onto his back, he added, "Thanks Cap," before freezing in place. "Uh oh."

Steve looked up to see them surrounded by guns, what looked like the entire Singapore police force drawing on them. He lay back down, dropping his gun to his side. "No problem," he said, raising his empty hands and trying to catch his breath.

Uh oh indeed.


	2. Chapter 2

“Green or red?”

“Green,” Darcy confirmed and then paused, caught off-guard. “Wait, they _make_ red ones?”

The grocery clerk gave her a shrug. “Yeah, my grandma loves the red ones. She’s from Russia, apparently they’re a thing there. We don’t carry them, but I know a couple of markets that might.” When Darcy shook her head, he led her two aisles over and pointed. “Okay. Green tomatoes, pickled. Down on the right, top shelf. Above the regular pickles.”

“Thanks,” Darcy said with a grin. “The lady at the last place just stared at me when I asked.” When he nodded and went back to his work, she turned and walked slowly down the aisle, scanning the shelves.

Pickled green tomatoes. Of all the errands her new job had entailed, this might just be the weirdest so far. Of course, given that she was sort of a modern _His Girl Friday_ to Tony Stark—though officially, her title was Assistant to Pepper Potts—Darcy figured she would probably encounter far weirder things on the job. So far, she’d spent most of her time finding ever more creative ways to trick Mr. _Call-Me-Tony_ Stark into doing his paperwork since he “didn’t like being handed things.”

Except, apparently, for food. Maybe she could wrap the paperwork around the pickle jar, she mused. Darcy came to a stop, peering up at the top shelf. There was only one brand of the tomatoes, and she put three jars in her basket before thinking better of it and reaching for a fourth. This market was kind of off her usual path, and unless she found someplace closer that carried the pickles (tomatoes? What was the correct term, she wondered?), Darcy decided it would be best to stock up for now.

She picked up a few more things for herself, and after juggling payment for the work things with her shiny new Stark Card, Darcy set out for home. Tony had offered her a luxury apartment in his building, but she had declined, feeling a little strange about having her boss know everything about her life. The whole place was covered in cameras, and she didn't really want him knowing when she came and went. Luckily, her generous paycheck allowed her to find a place to live relatively close to Stark Tower, even if it wasn't half the size.

But Darcy didn't have many things, so she didn't need much space. Two weeks in, and she still had several boxes that she hadn't opened. Most were stacked almost exactly as they’d been when delivered, the London shipping labels still attached.

The pile of boxes was the first thing she saw when she let herself in, and as Darcy walked over to the tiny kitchen and put her bags down she couldn’t help the slight pang. That whole escapade in London had uprooted her entire life, and when it was over she had needed a real job. SHIELD had moved in to work with Jane and Thor, taking over the London labs, and Darcy had begun to feel a little left out. She still missed London, Jane and Thor especially, even if she loved her new job.

One of the SHIELD agents working with them seemed particularly impressed with her computer skills and put her in touch with someone in New York, and before Darcy knew it, she was being interviewed by Pepper Potts. "I won't lie to you, Ms. Lewis," she'd begun, "your ability to handle strong personalities is key to being successful in this job."

Strong personalities. Ms. Potts—Pepper—hadn’t been kidding. Darcy pulled a bottle of water out of the fridge and started assembling her dinner.

_BEEP BEEP_

Darcy carried her water and her sandwich over to the sofa and pulled her laptop toward her. She clicked on the flashing button as she settled cross-legged into the cushions. Suddenly, Jane's face filled her screen. "Hey, Doc. What time is it there?" she asked, glancing down at her screen. "You're up late."

"I wanted to see how you were doing," Jane replied, and Darcy could see that she was still in her lab. "Eric's got some data that needed collecting. I told him I'd hang out here until midnight."

Darcy wiggled and adjusted the laptop so they could talk more easily, then took a bite of her sandwich. "What kind of data’s Eric working on?"

"He's been helping out an old friend of his, working on synthesizing Pym Particles for practical applications," Jane said, "but between you and me, I don't think the research will ever see the light of day. And Thor's gone again, doing whatever it is he does when he leaves here." Darcy could see that sad shadow cross Jane's face. "So tell me, how's life in the big city? Settling in okay?"

"It's alright," Darcy told her, hoping to make her smile again. "New York is funny, it's just like it looks on TV and the movies. I keep expecting the Law and Order guys to pop out and start asking me questions. Or, you know, our favorite jackbooted thugs… even after all that went down with them.” She nibbled on a Dorito. “Have you read any of that stuff that was made public?"

"I still can’t believe it’s just gone,” Jane admitted. “Or that _you’re_ gone, off being awesome and actually working with Pepper Potts _and_ Tony Stark. So how's that going?" Jane asked. "Natasha told me that she worked for Pepper Potts for a few months, doing undercover, and I almost don't believe some of her stories. Is Stark really that eccentric?"

"Well, so far I haven't been asked to do anything too outrageous. Most of last week I was following Ms. Potts around, learning the organization and dazzling her with my amazing computer skills."

"Yes, you're quite impressive," Jane laughed. "I can't tell you how much I miss you around here. With both you and Ian gone, all our information is a mess." Darcy must have made a face, because Jane immediately apologized. "I'm sorry, Darce, I didn't mean to mention him."

"It's okay," Darcy replied, but the smile on her face felt forced and awkward. "I should be over this by now. I am over it," she corrected herself. Then she sighed. "It's just… Ian was a really nice guy, and sometimes I wonder if I didn't make a mistake coming over here, leaving him behind." Seeing what could have been.

"It was the job opportunity of a lifetime," Jane replied, shaking her head. "Stark Industries - Darce, you couldn't _not_ take it."

Darcy still remembered when she got the call. It _was_ the opportunity of a lifetime - and the ridiculous salary didn't hurt either. "I know… it's just," Darcy sighed. "I wish he'd have come with me. Is that silly? It's silly. We weren't even that serious." They hadn't really been dating that long, just a few months, and when Ian told her that he didn't want to pursue a long distance relationship, they said their goodbyes and went their separate ways, very grown-up and maturely.

But it didn't stop Darcy from missing him. Especially when she was alone now, her best friend living across the ocean.

Jane made one of those sad noises. "It's not silly," she said. "I mean, you remember me, how bad I was when Thor left that first time." The women smiled at each other, then laughed a little, thinking about that time.

"Yeah, you were pretty pathetic," Darcy agreed, and they laughed even louder.

"Okay, now that you're smiling, I can tell you this." Jane looked conspiratorial, looking around her lab, then moved her face closer to the screen. "Are you seeing anyone now?"

“That would require actually meeting someone date-worthy,” Darcy pointed out. “So far, the only men I’ve really spent any length of time with are Tony Stark, his bodyguard Happy, and the maintenance guy for my apartment, who’s about eighty-five and sweet, but very married.”

“That’s good, actually,” Jane said, brightening up. She looked downright smug now, Darcy thought. “Natasha was saying earlier, she let a friend of hers know you’re in town. She thinks you two’ll hit it off.”

Darcy’s eyebrows went up. “A friend of Natasha’s?” The woman was utterly gorgeous, and Darcy was pretty sure she had excellent taste. But on the other hand, she also worked for SHIELD—or had—which meant a significant portion of the men she knew were probably jackbooted thugs. “I don’t know, Jane…”

“Come on, Darcy. It’ll be fun. Just coffee or something, to say welcome to New York. It couldn’t hurt to know somebody new, could it?”


	3. Chapter 3

"What does SHIELD stand for?"

Clint and Steve stood at attention in front of Phil’s desk. _Director Coulson's_ desk. Clint's eyes were fixed on a point on the wall behind Phil, trying not to look at the man who managed to inject that deceptively mild tone with enough rebuke that Clint’s jaw tensed in preparation. He knew that tone. This conversation wasn’t going to be pleasant.

Steve spoke first. "I believe it stands for Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement, and Logistics Division. Sir." Only Captain America could pull it off, the correct tone and inflection making up for the underlying smartass in Steve's words.

Coulson didn't seem to notice or care about the sass. He crossed his arms and leveled a glare at first Steve, then Clint. "And what, exactly, in there gives us authorization to blow up a significant portion of Singapore?"

…Maybe he had caught onto the sass, after all. The three men all stared at each other. "That wasn't our intent, sir," Clint finally answered, meaning it. He knew SHIELD operated below the radar - most of the time. Particularly now. "And… technically it was Winter Soldier, sir, who actually managed to kill those HYDRA agents. I think we just got in the way."

Coulson shook his head, bringing a hand up to rub at the bridge of his nose. "You two should know how important it is that we do what falls within our scope and nothing more. Not right now. You, especially, Captain Rogers,” he pointed out, cutting a glance at Steve. “And you, Barton. With arguably greater experience in covert operations, what did you think was going to happen when you two reduced that casino to rubble? With an assist from the Winter Soldier,” Phil added before either of them could object again.

Steve took this one. "We're sorry, sir. When we went in, the mission was-"

"To acquire the target. To find the buyers for his Asgardian artifacts. To root out HYDRA. Preferably without attracting the notice of the local authorities." Coulson paced out from behind his desk. "You two are good together, I’ll give you that. Maybe _too_ good." He came to a stop in front of Clint. "At least when you worked with Romanoff, she could sniff out the best way out of a situation with minimal damage." Coulson shook his head, stepping back to include Steve, too. "You're good - but I'm not convinced you're the best partners for each other. I think you two just like seeing how many of the bad guys you can take out. And while that’s undeniably attractive given who we’re dealing with, SHIELD can’t afford it. Not now."

"Sir," Clint began, but it was Steve who held up his hand and spoke.

"Director Coulson—Phil,” he amended. “I realize that we might have been a little enthusiastic in our approach in Singapore, but understand - with all due respect to the other available agents, I wouldn't have wanted to be there with anyone other than Agent Barton."

Those words warmed Clint, affecting him in a dangerous way. But then Coulson sighed, and the way his face fell made the bottom of Clint’s stomach drop out. "This wouldn't have happened if I were handling you two directly."

"You’ve got other things to work on right now," Clint said. Coulson and his new protégées at the Playground were off doing their thing. And Natasha… Clint had understood when Natasha was assigned to the London bureau, taking control of handling the aftermath of things with Thor and Malekith after she’d returned from her own fact-finding mission. He missed her, but it was a real coup for her, and he couldn't be more proud.

The fact that he was now working almost exclusively with Steve Rogers didn't hurt, either. Clint had managed to keep his crush under control, and the friendship that had developed over the past four months was as real as he'd had with anyone.

“Oh, sir?” Clint glanced up when Steve spoke. He was already halfway to the door, but Steve had stayed where he was in front of Phil’s desk. “About the Winter Soldier--”

“Negative, Captain. The tail number on that chopper was bogus. We haven’t been able to trace it.” Phil looked sympathetic.  
Steve was quiet for a moment, and Clint felt his stomach twist. “Understood,” Steve said at last. He turned to follow Clint.

Clint didn't relax until they were back at their desks. After what happened at the Triskelion, the New York base had been reclaimed, but with the uncertainty in those first weeks, no one wanted to take any chances. They--a select few, at first, and then a few more, as they were vetted--were in a new, clean location. Another nondescript Stark Industries office building from the outside, but someplace Fury and Hill had apparently kept up their sleeves for a rainy day. 

The two men sat across from each other in their shared office with its view of Battery Park, not speaking for a few moments. "That wasn't fun," Clint said at last.

"Nope." Steve leaned forward on his elbows, chin on his hands. "I gotta tell you, Barton, I didn't like the idea of being split up from you."

"Me neither." Clint balled up a piece of paper, tossing it at Steve. "Guess I've gotten used to your face." Steve smiled, that shy little grin he did whenever Clint flirted with him. As long as Clint kept it light and fun, Steve didn't seem to mind.

That one time, when Clint girded up his nerves and actually asked Steve out - that time had hurt, despite Steve's best attempts to let Clint down easily. Steve was flattered, appreciated it, but just didn't feel the same way. All in all, Clint had been turned down worse, more than once.

But this was _Steve_ , and Steve was special - and Clint had been genuinely disappointed. Their friendship hadn't been affected, for which Clint was grateful, and now what they had was as important to him as any partnership. "Look, it's after three. Why don't we get out of here early, go grab a beer at Donovans and catch some of the game?"

"Sorry," Steve told him. "Can't, not tonight. Today's the "Welcome to New York" thing for Natasha."

"Oh, yeah," Clint remembered. Natasha had asked Steve to meet some girl who was new to the city, 'a friend of a friend'. "Can't imagine why she asked you and not me," he teased. "I'm much more charming and handsome than you," Clint told him.

That made Steve laugh. "Whatever," he said, face flushing. "I'm just taking this girl out for coffee, maybe dinner if she wants. Nothing serious, just doing a friend a favor. It’s gotta be rough, being in a new city at the holidays."

"I guess I never really thought about it that way. Never really did a whole lot for the holidays at the county home,” Clint admitted. They had talked briefly about their pasts on occasion, and he was comfortable mentioning things about his childhood to Steve because he got it. Neither of them had had much growing up. “And then in the carnival, all holidays meant were either a day off or a double bill. Well, you have fun," Clint said, standing. "I'm done, not doing any more work today. You coming?" he asked, reaching for his jacket.

"I think I'm gonna finish these reports first. But you have a good time tonight, Clint, okay?" Steve looked up at him with those eyes, so full of genuine warmth and concern that Clint couldn't look away. When he did, he spotted the Winter Soldier file open on Steve's laptop. 

Okay. A few seconds later, he finally nodded, smiling back at Steve, and headed down the hall.


	4. Chapter 4

Steve looked down at his watch. Five o'clock, right on the dot.

It didn't really feel like his watch, not yet. The one he'd been wearing 'that' day, when he crashed, that had been a gift from a grateful Senator from the Midwest, and while it had been a little more expensive than Steve had been comfortable with, it was a quality piece that he'd worn proudly throughout that last year. But it hadn't made it through seventy years in the ice, so while the one he had on now was nice, it wasn't quite his, not yet. 

Still, at least it looked like a watch. Gold band, its hands sweeping slowly around the numbers. Clint wore something on his wrist that resembled a small computer, with buttons and a touchscreen and 'apps'. Too much for Steve, but Clint loved it, so that made Steve happy.

It had been an unexpected friendship. Of all his new companions, Clint Barton reminded Steve the most of his old friends from 'back then'. Maybe it was his soldierly mien, how he understood the hierarchy of taking orders (even if he didn't always follow them). Or maybe it was how much he liked cleaning his weapons, something Steve used to do with Bucky and the guys. There was an excitement, a quiet energy that came with being around Clint that Steve had come to depend on to keep him from slipping back into that depression that sometimes threatened.

Deep down, Steve thought there might have been more to his feelings about Clint - but that too was confusing. Steve liked Clint, but Steve _liked_ Clint, too, that wiggly feeling inside him that he used to get when he hung out with the guys, and a handsome one of them caught his eye, made him laugh. 

He liked girls. Hell, there was still a photo of Peggy in his bedroom. He knew that things were different now, that being gay (or bisexual, that's what they called it now) wasn't as hidden as it was when he was younger. It was accepted, for the most part, and if Steve wanted to be with a man, then he could be with a man. But still, it had startled him when Clint's gentle flirting turned into a genuine date invitation. Steve had said no too quickly, then realized he'd hurt Clint's feelings. 

But just as quickly as it had happened, it was over, and they were friends again, joking and plotting and pinging wads of paper at each other during their infrequent down time. 

Strange turn of events. There had been a time, decades ago, when Steve had been the one gently turned down by his best friend. He'd understood Bucky's feelings, and Bucky never belittled Steve's schoolboy crush. 

But it didn't mean it didn't hurt.

Clint was his friend, and maybe Steve understood better than others how important friendship really was. That's why he'd agreed to take out Natasha's friend for some coffee. Being brand new in this city could be scary, especially for someone young and impressionable and-

"Hey."

Steve turned, pulled out of his reverie by that voice. Looking down, he spotted a young woman standing next to him. She was a little thing, a foot shorter than he was, with these horn-rimmed glasses and her dark hair all tucked up in a stocking cap. "Hi… Darcy?" he asked.

"The one and only," she told him, holding out her hand. "And you must be Steve. Natasha was right about you," Darcy told him. "I looked up and down the street, and you looked most likely to be a superhero in disguise." Reaching out, she poked his bicep with one finger. "Hmm, muscley." 

Steve laughed. This wasn't quite what he expected. "I am. Steve, I mean, not… muscley. I mean, I am, but…" But then she started laughing, and he found himself laughing too. "Okay, let me try this again. Hi, I'm Steve Rogers."

"Darcy Lewis," she replied, taking his offered hand. "I'm sorry you got roped into this. I told Jane that I was a big girl, I'd be fine but when she found out that Natasha was from here, she asked her to find someone to 'look after me'," she said, making air quotes with her hands. 

“It’s my pleasure, Darcy. Really,” he added, grinning down at her. “It’s not always easy, starting in a new place. Believe me, I know how that can be. Besides, it’s practically Christmas. And it never hurts to know somebody, does it?” he asked, his hand on her back as he guided her toward the door of the bakery where they’d arranged to meet. It was next to Rockefeller Center, and as they turned the skating rink was visible to their left. Once they were inside, Steve knew, they’d have an even better view of the ice. It had seemed like a good choice. His suspicion was confirmed when Darcy gave a little squeal and stopped to look. 

“Oh,” she breathed. “I’ve seen people skate there in movies. Have you ever been?” she asked, looking up at him. 

She really was pretty, he realized, looking at those blue eyes, and that soft, full mouth. Not as made up as some of the girls he saw; just some gloss on her lips and something smoky outlining those big eyes. He shook his head, trying to remember that this was a favor for Natasha. “You know, I never did,” he admitted. “I was sick most of the time when I was a kid, so I didn’t do a whole lot of ice skating.”

“You seem to have grown out of it,” Darcy observed, her mouth quirking as she looked him over again, and Steve thought maybe she blushed, the pink in her cheeks growing a little deeper. Then she glanced back at the rink before turning those big, blue eyes on him again. “Maybe we could try it out? I bet that coffee would taste even better after a good, long workout on the ice.” 

Steve stared at her for a moment before chuckling to himself. He’d been wary when Natasha had brought up this new friend who’d moved to New York, mindful of her ongoing attempts at setting him up. But somehow, this time, he was feeling kind of grateful for the meddling. Darcy was nothing like those other women. Or maybe, Steve thought, maybe he was ready now. "Um, okay," he began, following her as she headed toward the rink. 

Eventually they found the ticket booth and purchased their passes and rental skates. "I feel the need to warn you," he began, taking wobbly steps, "if I fall, I'm gonna fall hard." 

"Then I guess I'm gonna have to catch you," she told him, stepping onto the ice. He watched her take a few tentative steps, took a deep breath, and followed her. 

Steve managed three steps before he fell for the first time, landing right on his bottom. "Oof." Darcy skated back over to him with cautious, wobbly strokes, her arms held out for balance. 

“You weren’t kidding,” she observed, holding out one gloved hand. “That sounded like it hurt.”

“Mostly my pride,” he told her, looking at her hand and then sizing her up. “I’d better not. I might hurt you,” he said. She was so tiny, her head barely came up to his shoulder, and that hand in the glove with the zigzag stripes looked just as small. Steve started to scramble awkwardly to his feet. He made it halfway before his feet started to slip again. “Fuck,” he muttered. 

Then he felt her shoulder bracing against his chest, and other, softer bits pressing against him as she broke his fall. His feet slipped and slid a little more before he found his balance, and when he began to straighten up Steve realized one arm had snaked firmly around her waist. “All right?” Darcy asked.

”Think so,” Steve told her, feeling his face heat as he looked down at her and began to peel himself away with care. “Sorry about that.”

But Darcy just shrugged and gave him a bright smile as she slid her hand into his. “No problem. It’s not every day a hot guy literally throws himself at me.” 

Steve laughed out loud at that, throwing his head back and nearly upsetting them both again. “I find that hard to believe,” he said at last. “I mean, about guys throwing themselves at you.” They were skating now, still slow but slightly less awkward. 

“I didn’t say there weren’t _any_ ,” Darcy pointed out. “There have been a couple.” She laughed as they navigated around a father teaching a tiny toddler to skate, the girl bundled up in thick layers as she pulled at her father’s hand, urging him to move faster. 

“Is it just me, or is this getting easier?” Steve asked. He switched Darcy’s hand to his left one and slid his right arm around her, his hand resting on her hip as they started to turn. He had just enough time to register her smile before it dissolved into a startled yelp as her feet went out from under her. Steve caught her against him, twisting and taking the brunt of the impact with the ice, and felt her land on him with a soft, breathless whump. 

They both lay still for a moment. Then Darcy propped herself up and looked down at him, her eyes bright with laughter, and Steve silently thanked Natasha for asking this favor. “I don’t know about easier, but it’s definitely fun.”

 

Coffee at the little bakery turned into dinner at one of the Italian places down the street. Steve couldn't get over how much fun Darcy was, the way her eyes lit up when she talked, how her hands moved as she tried to explain things. 

Throughout dinner he just sat and listened to her tell him about the events in London with Thor, from her own unique perspective. "So you never did get arrested?" he smirked, wiping his mouth with a napkin and pushing his plate away. 

"Nope, still officially a good girl," Darcy told him, tearing apart a breadstick and chewing it slowly. "The cops were so busy with all the damage the gravitational portals caused, we were able to slip away and back to the labs almost unseen. Well, except for Thor. He answered most of the questions, though I don't think any of the cops really understood what he was saying. Then, well, SHIELD swooped in and-" Darcy made a swooping motion with her hand - "everything was hunky-dory after that." 

"I think you are the first person I've met since I woke up that has used that term," Steve grinned at her. 

Darcy's expression changed, softened. "That must have been strange, waking up like that." She looked down at her cell phone. "Two hours we've sat and I've done all the talking. Still don't know that much about you..." she told him, adding a little smirk of her own. 

"Your story was more interesting. Besides, with… where I work," he waved his hands. There wasn't a lot he could tell people about what he did, ordinarily, and while he could talk about it in general terms with Darcy, that still didn’t begin to scratch the surface. "Been doing some stuff with the CIA," he said, giving her the official cover story they'd developed to keep him safe. "Despite what you might think, it's not all that interesting. Besides, I really liked listening to you talk." 

It was still another thirty minutes before they left the restaurant. Although Darcy insisted that she could take the subway, Steve hailed a cab and paid the driver to take Darcy to her apartment. They exchanged phone numbers, and Darcy promised to give him a call soon. "Next time, I get to hear your life story, okay?" she said, leaning up to kiss him on the cheek. "Thanks for tonight." 

Steve watched her cab pull away, a familiar tug inside him. It wasn't that she reminded him of Peggy. Despite some similarities, they were two very different women. 

But that feeling - the one that made Steve want to do more than just the right thing. He wanted to be a better person, a better man. It was a feeling he hadn't had in a long time, and as he headed home, there was a smile on his face and a lightness in his heart that hadn't been there before.


	5. Chapter 5

Darcy was lost in her own thoughts after that dinner with Steve. Not at all what she expected, she mused to herself as the cab driver whipped in and out of traffic, dropping her off at the CVS close to her building. 

Handsome, yes, and strong, tall, powerful. Like Thor in some ways, but that's where the similarities ended. Thor had this courtly sort of way he talked and walked. Jane had told her once that Thor was supposed to be king of his people, and it showed. 

Steve was just… _Steve_ , she decided as she grabbed a package of toilet paper and a bag of Cool Ranch Doritos, sighing a little at the memory of being tucked into his side as they skated. Steve was genuine and honest and made her feel like he would walk through a burning building to save her. A hero, though he would probably balk at the term. Of course it was just one date, but something about his eyes, the way he looked at her made her feel like maybe-

"Oof," she said, turning the corner and walking straight into someone. "Hey buddy, I'm so sorry."

“No problem,” the guy said, his hands on her arms to steady her. “Hey, wait. I know you. Darcy, right?”

Darcy looked up at the sound of that voice, her eyes wide. “Agent Barton? Oh my God, what are you doing here? I mean… hey.” She clutched her armload of toilet paper and chips a little tighter, wishing she’d picked up a basket, but in the end Darcy decided she didn’t care. He’d been her security detail in New Mexico a couple of times, and once she’d deliberately spent ages shopping for tampons, trying to scare him off and make him give her some space. A little toilet paper wasn’t likely to faze him. “So… New York?” she asked. She hadn't seen him out of uniform before.

“Yep,” Clint replied. “I live in Brooklyn, travel when business calls.” He gave her a crooked smile, and Darcy remembered a couple of nights they’d both been on the roof, just shooting the breeze, really, but it’d been fun. They’d gotten along pretty well. “And you. I guess you were in London with Jane Foster, right?”

“Yeah, well. I won’t bore you with details you probably already know,” Darcy snarked, but she grinned back at him. “But now I'm here in New York City. I got an offer I couldn’t refuse.” 

“Good for you," Clint told her. Darcy liked the way he was looking at her, appreciative but not leering. "What are you up to these days?"

He laughed, leaning in closer as he spoke, his voice dropping. "Oh, this and that. No more SHIELD, so just doing work here and there. Sometimes people have need of my specific skill set." Clint looked down when his watch beeped. “I gotta get moving, but we should catch up. Have lunch with me tomorrow?”

“Um… okay. Sure,” Darcy said, blinking, still surprised at seeing him again. She juggled the chips, reaching for her phone. “I got a new number. So. Um, give me a call, okay?”

“I will,” Clint confirmed, putting the digits into his phone. "Lunch tomorrow, Lewis.” He moved aside to let someone down the narrow aisle, ending up close enough that he brushed against Darcy again and looked down at her with a smirk as he moved past her. “See you then.” 

Darcy watched him go, her eyes lingering as he turned the corner. "Unbelievable," she murmured to herself as she headed to the front counter. Two dates in two days; a personal best, even for her. "When it rains, it pours, I guess..."

 

"So how was dinner with Captain Perfect Hair?" Tony asked as she stopped by his personal workroom to get his imprint on some paperwork. 

Darcy narrowed her eyes at him. She had learned early on that Tony didn't want fawning sycophants. He wanted good people who knew their business - and he enjoyed a little verbal sparring now and then. "That's not very nice, Mr. Stark," she told him, shaking her head in disappointment.

"You want nice, Captain Rogers is the man for you," Tony retorted. "But you remember whose name is on your paychecks."

"I do - and it's Ms. Potts’, last time I checked."

Tony rolled his eyes, walking toward the small break area of his lab. Pouring himself a mug of coffee, he asked, "So, are you seeing him again?"

"I'd like to," Darcy grinned. "But--"

Tony's ears perked up. "But? But what? Something wrong, something happen?" Tony put the mug down and stared at her. "Did our hero get a little handsy with you?"

Darcy groaned. "No, nothing like that. We had a great time, and yes, I am going to see him again. But--" she leaned against the counter, "I ran into an old friend last night. Someone I hadn't seen in a long time..."

"A guy friend?" Tony asked. 

Darcy nodded. "Yeah. We didn't date or anything, but I always did have a little crush on him… and he asked me to have lunch with him later today."

Tony whistled low. "You vixen."

"No, I didn't mean for this to happen." She slumped a little. "I like them both, and now I feel awful."

"Why?"

"Because... I can't date both of them."

"Sure you can! Why not?"

"Because… because…" Darcy waved her hands.

"Because somewhere, someone has taught you that's wrong. Stuck these puritanical ideas into your head, that you should be pure and monogamous and faithful and all those other virtues that little girls get saddled with. No one tells boys these things, and you know why?" Tony demanded.

"Because they're boys?"

"BECAUSE THEY'RE BOYS," Tony repeated animatedly. "There is nothing wrong with you seeing both of them. Maybe you like one more than the other. How will you know if you don't try them both out?"

"I'm not trying them out."

"Of course you are. One of them will meet your needs more efficiently than the other. There is only one way to determine this - you need to run an experiment." Tony pointed at his lab. "Smart people just don't leave this up to chance. Collect some data and draw a valid conclusion."

"Collect data," she repeated. "This sounds bad."

"This sounds like science," he told her, resting a hand on her shoulder before heading back to his work table. "Let me know how it turns out..."


	6. Chapter 6

**Darcy Anne Lewis  
DOB: 2/27/88   
Place of Birth: Methodist Hospital, Memphis, TN   
Parents: Robert Alexander Lewis, Carol Elizabeth Lewis (nee Hulsey)  
Siblings: None  
Education: ...Culver University, BA Political Science  
Occupation: Administrative Assistant to Pepper Potts, Stark Industries**

Clint whistled low. Potts was one of the most powerful people in New York, maybe the entire country. Not your ordinary 'first job after graduation', but he knew that Darcy wasn't your ordinary girl.

A little more digging yielded even more information. Darcy had been in London recently, with that whole Greenwich incident and the Asgardian. The good one, at any rate, from what he heard. Clint had read all the reports about what happened on the helicarrier before he 'woke up', and in the end, Fury let Thor leave with his brother. 

Clint blinked, forcing the memory of that day away from his thoughts. Back to the matter at hand, which was getting to know Ms Lewis a little better. Clint had thought she was really cute back in New Mexico, and while agents weren't supposed to date their charges, he wasn't adverse to the occasional hook-up in a supply closet. 

But then the tesseract was found and Clint was sent overnight to Utah to oversee that mess and he never saw Darcy Lewis again - until last night. _Still cute_ , he thought to himself, with a body that just didn't quit. His brows furrowed when the intel from the London bureau on her pulled up a photograph of her with some guy's arms around her. Running the photograph through SHIELD's facial recognition software, he learned the man's name was Ian Boothby, listed as an intern in Jane Foster's research labs - and apparently Darcy's boyfriend, judging from the laboratory security vid he pulled from SHIELD databases.

Well, they weren't together now, he decided, after a quick glance of her telephone records showing no calls made to London, other than Jane Foster's cell phone. Clint grinned at that bit of good news. 

"You look happy."

"What?" Clint looked up, startled at the sound of Steve's voice. "Oh, it’s nothing," he said, snapping the laptop closed. "How was your date last night?"

Steve grinned back at him enigmatically. "You know, it went pretty good. She's a sweet girl, and… I think I'm gonna see her again." 

Clint's heart tightened, just a little bit, and though he was happy for Steve, it took a bit of forcing to get that smile on his face. "That sounds great," Clint said, slowly opening his laptop again, looking at the pretty face filling the screen. 

_Darcy Lewis_ , he thought to himself. Yeah. Maybe it was time for Clint to get out and have some fun of his own.

 

Clint Barton could be impressive when he wanted. 

It took a few calls and pulling some strings, but he managed to get a table for two at Masa, one of New York's most exclusive restaurants. They agreed to meet at Columbus Circle at one, so Clint arrived a bit early, pacing around, watching the crowds of tourists heading in and out of Central Park. Right on time, he spotted her stepping out of the subway station, her hair covered by a little knit cap. "Over here," he called out, waving his hand until she spotted him. 

"Hey," she said, walking over toward her. 

Clint leaned over and gave her a peck on the cheek, glad to see her grin shyly at him. "You look perfect."

"Not so bad yourself, Barton," she told him, giving his arm a light punch. She looked over at the park, full of people. "Where are we going?" she asked, curious. 

"This way," Clint told her, offering his arm and leading her in the direction of the Time Warner Center. Her eyes went wide when she saw where they were heading. "Hope you like Japanese."

Fifteen minutes later, they were seated at a table for two and Clint watched as her eyes went wider when she looked at the menu. "...does that say $450?"

"But it's twenty-five courses," Clint replied, feeling pleased with himself. It had been a while since he'd felt like spending this kind of money on someone, but he'd saved up and it wasn't like he was an extravagant guy. Clint just wanted to show Darcy an amazing time, treat her special. "Kore wa watashi to jyosei no tame no tokubetsu-na toki desu," he said to the waiter. 

"I'm almost afraid to ask what you just said," Darcy murmured, brow furrowed, unable to tear her eyes off the menu. 

"I just said that this was a special occasion, and I wanted to make sure that you had a great experience." Strangely, those words didn't have the effect Clint expected. "Are you okay?"

"Not really," Darcy admitted, putting the menu down. "Look, Clint - I don't know what's going on here, and I know I'm new to New York." She looked around the restaurant, eyeing all the people sitting at the bar and the small tables. "But I'm not comfortable with you dropping hundreds of dollars on lunch - for me."

"It's no big deal, Darcy," he said, feeling a little defensive. "Don't worry about the money."

"It's not just the money, Clint," she retorted. "I work for Tony Stark, I see extravagant displays of wealth every day. But-" Darcy shook her head, standing up. "I'm sorry, this is a mistake. This," she glanced around at the elegant restaurant, "this just isn't me." Clint watched as she stood, reaching for her purse and heading out of the restaurant. 

Clint felt a little stunned. " Darcy - Darce!" he called out, following her out of the restaurant, and out onto the street. "Hey, wait," he called out, reaching for her arm. "Look, I'm sorry if you didn't like it. We can go somewhere else."

"It wasn't that I didn't like it," Darcy told him, shaking her head. "It's just - I'm not that girl, Clint, and if you think I am, then maybe we're not really right for each other."

_What?_ "Look," Clint began, spine straightening. "I just wanted to take you someplace nice. Show you that I wasn't just some jackbooted thug-" 

Darcy gave Clint a look that made his heart twist uncomfortably. “You don’t get it. I _liked_ that jackbooted thug in New Mexico. I liked him a lot.” She tugged herself gently out of his grasp. “I’ll see you around, I guess.”

“Darce, come on. Just give it a chance, all right?” Clint fell in step beside her. 

She growled softly, and despite his panic that she was going to just walk away, he almost wanted to smile. Darcy sounded like a frustrated kitten. “Clint, I really don’t want to be rude, but I don’t think it’s going to work…” Darcy stopped in mid-sentence and wheeled around to him.

“Kiss me,” she murmured, tipping her face up to his and tugging him down to meet her.

“Wha—“ Clint began, but was cut off when Darcy rose up on her toes, her arms winding around his neck as she pressed her lips against his. She gave him a series of little, soft, nibbling pecks, his mind blown even before she began kissing him in earnest, and then her soft lips rubbed against his and Clint groaned. He didn’t know what was going on, but he had his arms full of Darcy, the two of them standing right there on the sidewalk on Broadway, and he wasn’t going to complain about it. Clint’s hands tangled in her hair, cradling Darcy’s head as he kissed her back, his thumbs rubbing gently against her scalp. 

“Darcy, is that you? Darcy--Darce?” A very British, very male voice kept calling her name, and as Darcy pulled back Clint’s head began to clear. He glanced down at her, taking in that full, soft mouth that was slightly bruised now, and the look in her eyes… slightly panicked, he realized, as he dipped his head and nuzzled her cheek to buy another moment to gather his thoughts. The whisper was almost inaudible, but he heard the word _please_ just as her name was called again.

Then Darcy turned in his arms. “Ian. Wow, big surprise. What brings you to New York?”

Ian. Clint zeroed in on the guy, taking in the worn, black peacoat and the stocking cap. Then his attention turned to the leggy blonde tucked against his side. His arm tightened protectively around Darcy, and he rubbed her upper arm as she looked up at him again, her smile a little too bright and broad. “Honey, remember I told you about Ian?” 

“London, right, sweetheart?” Clint stuck his hand out. “Clint Barton,” he said, giving the weedy-looking intern (ex-intern?) a smile that ought to have terrified him. “Yeah, Darcy mentioned you.”

“I can’t say the same. Ian Boothby,” Ian-the-intern replied, looking from Darcy to Clint in confusion. “You are…” He yelped when Blondie gave him an elbow. “Sorry, love. This is my ex, Darcy. Darcy, this is Kathy.” He hugged the woman a little closer, and Clint felt Darcy tense even though she didn’t show it, her smile still big and bright. Like a champ, he thought, his initial irritation deepening into outright dislike. It ticked down a notch further when Ian kept talking. “So, big news. We’ve moved here, Kathy and I.”

“You’ve moved here. The both of you. To New York?” Darcy repeated. “Isn’t that just… wow. Baby, did you hear that?” She lifted her head and gave Clint a kiss on the cheek. “I had it on pretty good authority that you didn’t want to move to New York,” Darcy said, turning back to Ian. 

“It just wasn’t the right time, I suppose,” Ian replied, giving Kathy a lovey-dovey smile and a squeeze that made Clint want to either vomit or punch him. Maybe both. “But Kathy had a job offer here, and I’m looking into graduate school.” Ian gave them both a look. “It just...felt right.” 

Yeah, Clint was liking this dude less and less, going by what he was gleaning from this conversation. “That’s just what I was saying to Darce,” he said, picking up one of her hands and giving her knuckles a kiss as he grinned down at her. “When it’s right, you just know.” 

Kathy beamed at Clint. “That is so sweet. You know… I can’t help thinking I’ve seen you somewhere before,” she added, staring at him. “Have you ever been to London?”

“Not lately,” Clint replied. 

Darcy grinned up at him, then gave Kathy a look Clint could only describe as conspiratorial. “He’s so modest. You might’ve seen him on tv a while back, when that stuff went down here,” she said, then made a little gesture with her hands, not unlike drawing a very small bow. 

Kathy’s gaze sharpened, and she gasped. “Wait. You’re _that_ Clint Barton?”

Clint shrugged, playing along. "I'm afraid I'm not at liberty to say much more than that," he told her, taking note of how much Ian seemed to be hating every moment of this. He almost felt bad for the poor bastard, but clearly, Darcy had been hurt by something he did, so Ian was going to pay. "Top secret and all."

"And you know Thor too," Kathy sighed, looking at Darcy with pure envy in her eyes. "How cool is that."

"Ah, the big guy. He's super nice, that's what most people don't get right away, how really _sweet_ Thor really is." Clint had to give it to her, Darcy was milking this for all it was worth. 

"Sweeter than me?" Clint teased her, tugging on one of her long curls.

"Well," Darcy playfully began, taking his hand, but Clint stopped her from talking with another kiss. 

"It's okay, babe. I'm an assassin. No one's ever accused me of being Mister Nice Guy," he said, aiming his glance in Ian's direction. 

Darcy leaned against him, and he groaned a little with pleasure. "I think you're perfect," she said, fixing those big blue eyes on him, and Clint felt something inside him twist. They kissed again, this one softer, more tender than before, and it wasn't until he heard Ian clear his throat that he remembered they weren't alone. 

RIght. "Well, we'd better be off," Clint said. "You know, business, all that. Ian, it was a pleasure to meet you. And you," he added, kissing Kathy on the cheek before taking Darcy's hand and leading her toward the park. 

"Yeah, see ya around, Ian!" Darcy called out, and the two of them began walking, arm in arm. It was another minute before she spoke. "Are they still there?" she asked, her voice low. 

"Don't turn around," Clint told her, stopping and nuzzling her hair as he looked back over behind them. "No, they're heading off in the other direction." They walked a few more steps before he dropped her hand. "So, you want to tell me what that was about?"

Darcy sighed, dropping her face into her hands. "I don't know," she began, biting her lip. "Old boyfriend, broke my heart," she shrugged. "I'm sorry 'bout just grabbing you like that."

"Are you kidding?" he told her, nudging Darcy with his arm. "Haven't had that much fun since my last mission. And kissing you was no hardship, I promise." They reached the park entrance, and Clint paused, hesitating. "Look, I know that lunch didn't go well, and that was partly my fault."

"Partly?" Darcy asked, punching his shoulder lightly. "At least eighty percent."

"Sixty-five, tops," Clint responded, glancing at a hot dog vendor just inside the park. "But give me a chance to make it up to you."


	7. Chapter 7

**_... investigations have indicated that HYDRA has broken ties with Rumlow. Recent voice transmissions confirm a falling out between that organization and the former SHIELD agent over his preoccupation with Agent Rollins' death and his 'personal vendetta' against Agents Barton and Rogers, to the point where their operations were being compromised. It is not clear why he has not been terminated/assassinated/killed by that organization, but it is believed that Rumlow is now in hiding from HYDRA as well._ **

**_SHIELD analysts believe that without HYDRA resources, Rumlow no longer poses as grave a risk to SHIELD, although his personal grudge against Barton and Rogers over the death of his compatriot cannot be understated. It is possible that even without HYDRA's resources, he must still be considered a dangerous combatant._ **

Steve scrolled down to the bottom of the report, unhappy that there wasn't more detailed information. "What do you think?" he asked, turning his chair to face Clint. 

Clint shrugged. "I dunno, someone is after us. I'm not that worried," he told Steve. "I mean, who isn't after us these days?"

Steve had to admit this was true. Between their own government, HYDRA, and every other generic bad guy on the planet, being a SHIELD agent meant you wore a target on your back. "But it sounds like he's specifically looking for you and me." Steve had to admire Clint's non-plussed reaction, even if he didn't share it. "Not even a little concerned?"

"That's why I have you around," Clint replied, eyes glued to his laptop. "I have other things on my mind." 

Steve watched Clint for a moment, staring at the way Clint's face shifted as he scrolled through whatever he was looking at. "Looks like something's got your attention. Or someone," he corrected himself. Then it hit him. "You have another date last night?"

"Yep," Clint said, finally looking up and over at Steve. "Well, if you count taking a girl to the park, feeding her hot dogs, then walking around the zoo making animal noises all afternoon a first date, then yes, we had another one last night."

Steve couldn't help laughing at that. It was such a Clint thing to do. "Classy, Barton. I see why the ladies are lined up to go out with you." But in the time they'd known each other, Steve had never seen Clint serious about anyone - and certainly not two dates in one week. "Where did you go?"

"Some steakhouse in Midtown that she found on Yelp," Clint said, shaking his head. "It was great, amazing food, and then she insisted on paying. My kind of woman."

"Sounds like a keeper," Steve said, pushing away those jealous feelings inside him and opening up his own laptop. Then he grinned to himself as an email popped up. _Like she read my mind,_ Steve thought, reading the email from Darcy. "Hey, tell me where that place is. Maybe I'll take my girl there too."

He emailed Darcy right back, offering to take her out to Clint's restaurant. "How many times have you gone out with this girl, Rogers? Twice now?"

"Tonight will be three, if she can make it. Luckily, she can make her own schedule at work. Did I mention she works for Tony Stark?"

Clint looked up, staring strangely at Steve just as his email notification beeped. 

_That place is amazing, but I ate there just last night. How about Mexican? I heard about this great place - and this time it's my treat!_

Steve felt his face freeze into place. Turning to Clint, he saw that same expression on his partner's face, almost as if they were both thinking the same thing.

But - it couldn't be. No. 

Clint leaned forward on the desk. "Steve," he began slowly, "your girl. What's her name?" 

A few taps on his laptop, and Steve pulled up a picture of Darcy that he'd taken a couple days ago, when they'd met for lunch. He turned the laptop, not surprised when Clint stared at it. "Darcy Lewis," Clint murmured. "Darcy is Natasha's friend from London."

Steve nodded. "And she's the girl you met in New Mexico last year." In retrospect, it all made sense, and it might have been funny if Steve hadn't liked her so much. "Fuck."

"Yep," Clint said. "Fuck." Clint looked genuinely disappointed, and Steve felt even more terrible because he wanted Clint to be happy. 

There was another reason Steve felt bad, but he didn't want to linger on that jealousy. "Look," he began, "I'm gonna step back. You two knew each other before. You should go out with her." 

Steve watched as Clint looked down at his laptop, scratching the back of his neck, and he wondered if this could get any more awkward. Then Clint spoke. “You don’t have to do that,” he said. “I mean, from the sound of it, you really like her, too. And,” Clint added, "it's not like you've had a lot of girlfriends since you woke up. You should-" 

"I don't need help getting girlfriends, Barton," Steve interrupted him. "I just like Darcy. I really like her."

"Well, I really like her too," Clint replied quickly, his voice a little petulant. "And you're right. I knew her first, so I got dibs."

That whiny tone pissed Steve off in a way he couldn't explain. "Then maybe you should have asked her out before now. And you can't call dibs on a person, Clint. That's ridiculous..." 

"So, what are we gonna do about it?" Clint asked, his voice low and dangerous in a way Steve rarely saw outside a mission. 

It pissed Steve off. A lot. "I don't know what you are gonna do," Steve bit back, standing up. "I am taking my girl out for Mexican food tonight." 

Clint just snorted. "Age before beauty," he retorted, following Steve out the door. "Good luck, old man."


	8. Chapter 8

“You,” Darcy announced as she charged into Tony’s workshop with an armload of papers.

“Whatever it is, I didn’t do it. I’ve been right here, ask JARVIS.” Tony didn’t even look up from the equation he was working on, his hands flying as his eyes flicked between six different displays. “And don’t hand me those. You know I don’t like being handed things.”

“What? Oh, these.” Darcy thumped the stack down on the counter and climbed onto a stool, propping one elbow on top of the pile. “Not yours, for once. I just came by to tell you that whole scientific method of dating thing didn’t help so much.”

He swiped his hand at the displays, sending the data scattering. “Do tell,” Tony said, pulling up a rolling stool and nudging her. Then he tilted his head, trying to get a look at her face. “Uh oh. Do I need to suit up and go deliver a couple of smackdowns?”

“No, nothing like that. I just… I can’t make up my mind!” she burst out, waving her hands in the air. “I mean, Steve is… he’s _Steve_. He’s all sweet and—and chivalrous and opens doors and holds my chair for me. Who _does_ that any more and really means it? Him, that’s who.” Darcy paused for breath. “But then there’s Clint, and he’s snarky and sarcastic and we like the same movies and pizza, and there’s just this _thing_ about him…. Argh. _Argh._ I like them both. I can’t… how am I supposed to choose between them?” 

Tony threw up a hand. “Whoa, whoa, whoa, back up there, Lewis. Your ‘old friend’s’ name is Clint?” He gave her a shrewd look. “His last name wouldn’t, by chance, happen to be Barton, now would it?”

“Yes…” Darcy admitted. “But I--”

“Because I can totally see the two of you together, too, now that you mention it,” Tony interrupted. His eyes gleamed. “I mean, the snark. Remind me to get the two of you in a room somewhere and have JARVIS record while I prod at you both.” 

“Okay, that’s kind of creepy,” Darcy informed him. 

“You didn’t mention you were dating thirty-three percent of the Avengers,” Tony retorted, folding his arms across his chest. 

“I just told you, I like them both! How am I supposed to decide?” Darcy cried, throwing her hands up in the air. “And I’m not dating them _because_ they’re Avengers. Anyway, I knew Clint before that. So what do I do?” 

Tony shrugged. “Sleep with them.”

“Be serious.”

“Please. I am always serious about sex, Lewis. I thought you knew me,” Tony said, touching his hand to his chest and affecting an injured tone. “You can’t make up your mind whether Captain Dorito or Legolas is the one for you, right? Right. You’ve done the dating thing, you’ve talked, all those things the kids are doing today, am I right? So screw them both. Best man wins.”

“I can’t just sleep with them both. That’s… that’s…” Darcy squirmed in her seat, crossing her arms as she slumped, defeated. “It’s not right.”

“Again, something you’ve been programmed to think. Besides, you like them both, right? That is the whole issue here, that you can’t make up your mind based on what you’ve seen so far.” Tony waggled his eyebrows and Darcy snorted, trying not to laugh. It would only encourage him. 

“Yes, but…” Darcy paused. “Wait, back up. ‘Captain Dorito’?” 

“Shoulders. Waist. The man’s an isosceles triangle.” Tony waved his hand. “And don’t change the subject. You’re not exclusive with either of them yet, are you? I mean, I get the idea Capsicle would be into that, but has it actually come up yet?” Tony asked.

“...No. We’ve been kind of just taking it slow.” Not for the first time, Darcy found herself wondering how she had come to discussing her love life with Tony Stark. “I mean, not to give you details or anything, but there’s been some making out.” Some pretty intense kisses, but not a whole lot more than that. And okay, there’d been the way Steve had looked when he pulled back that last time, breathing hard, his eyes dark as they focused on her. 

Tony gave her a look, his eyes narrowing. “These are the kind of details I need to know, Lewis. I mean, not the _details_ details, though if you are so inclined I won’t say no. So you’ve done some canoodling with Captain America, good. That’s good. And with our little birdie? How’s that going?”

A little smile played at Darcy’s lips as she remembered those arms wrapped around her. “He’s an amazing kisser. Like… seriously.” She’d been surprised, somehow, expecting Clint to be eager, maybe a little forceful, but his kisses had been sweet and soft, building slowly. A little noise escaped her and Tony perked up. 

“That good, huh?” he asked, and Darcy was pretty sure he was filing the information away for later.

“...Yeah,” she admitted. Then she slumped against the counter, her hair falling around her as she covered her face with her hands. Darcy made a frustrated noise. “You see my point? I can’t choose between them.” But she had to - Tony was right, they were both Avengers, and sooner or later, they'd find out about each other. 

Tony wheeled the stool around and peered underneath her hair as he poked at her foot. “Lewis, we’ve been over this. More than once, I might add.” He shrugged. “You’re a grown up. They’re grown ups. And trust me when I say they’d have to be idiots to turn you down.”

Darcy wavered as she peeked back at Tony through her fingers. “...You really think?”

She flinched as a wadded up napkin flew past her head. "Science never lies, Lewis."


	9. Chapter 9

When Clint woke up on Saturday morning, he hadn't intended on messing around with Steve and Darcy on their date. 

Nope. 

Sure, Clint had _tried_ to sound a little cocky when he and Steve had discussed this, as if he was clearly the obvious choice. But inside, Clint knew that Steve would be a much better boyfriend to Darcy than him. Steve Rogers was strong and kind and handsome, a literal American hero. Ice coma withstanding, Steve was closer to Darcy's age, a fact that bothered Clint more than he wanted to admit. A perfect couple. Clint had no chance against that kind of competition. 

Darcy… last night they'd talked for hours on the phone before Clint went to sleep, laughing and teasing, Darcy telling him stories about her day. Clint could still remember the way Darcy sounded, laughing at his stupid jokes. The way she said his name. How her small hand fit perfectly in his. 

Two hours later, Clint was walking into SHIELD HQ, heading toward the small office he shared with Steve, still not entirely sure what he was doing. Instead of going to his desk, Clint sat at Steve's, internally rolling his eyes at how neat and orderly Steve kept his work space - unlike the barely controlled chaos that was Clint's organization scheme. 

He paused for a fraction of a second before opening up Steve's laptop, turning it on. Was he really going to do this? Apparently so, he decided, biting his lip as he began typing. 

Clint got the password on the third try - _commandos_ \- and soon he started going through Steve's internet history. It became clear what Steve was planning on doing today, and while it seemed completely cliched to Clint, he knew that it would probably knock Darcy's socks off. 

He snapped the laptop shut. Time to get to work. 

 

"Agent Barton, are you sure-"

"I told you, Keran," Clint said, settling into the chair at the situation command. Luckily, there was nothing terrible happening in the world, so there were no supervisors strolling around, wondering why SHIELD's meager resources were being used to monitor the ferris wheel at Coney Island. "Can you get a better view of the top there?" he asked, looking up at the screen. "Yeah, tight around that blue car."

"Sure can," the young agent answered, using a joystick to maneuver a small flying drone around the ride. "...is that Captain Rogers?"

"It is," Clint nodded. "Special mission. Gotta make sure he's okay."

"From her?" Agent Keran asked, disbelieving. "How come I don't get secret missions with gorgeous women like that," he shook his head, disappointed. 

"That's above your pay grade, Agent. Best that you don't ask questions. Just know that she would tear your head off with one hand tied behind her back," Clint retorted, just as Steve leaned over and gave Darcy a soft kiss that led to another, and another. "You remember that train derailment in Southeast Asia last year?"

Keran's eyes widened. "That was her?"

"No questions," Clint repeated, staring at the screen. The most infuriating part was that Clint didn't know who he was angrier at - Steve or Darcy. Mostly, he just wanted them to stop being so fucking cute together. Then Steve took Darcy's hand, lifting it to his lips and kissing it. "Okay, there's the signal. He's ready for the extraction team to arrive," Clint lied, ignoring that guilty feeling twisting in his gut as he watched Agent Keran lift the phone and make contact with someone on the other end. 

He turned back to Clint. "It's done."

Done. Clint glanced over at the monitor, conflicted. On the one hand, he hated this. Clint hated fighting with Steve, he hated it. 

But then - Clint kept his face frozen as he saw their car stop at the top of the ferris wheel, Steve's arm sliding around Darcy, their faces tilting toward each other, Steve's hand cradling Darcy's cheek. It was sweet and tender and Clint watched another moment longer before turning his eyes away. 

Within minutes he heard the chopper, black and sleek like the CIA would have (if Darcy knew that much about CIA helicopters, Clint wasn't sure but he didn't want to take that chance). The crowds below began pointing and shouting as the helicopter circled the ferris wheel, a rope ladder dropping. The screams got louder as someone emerged from the chopper, climbing down the rope ladder and Clint felt his face turn pink as the man began calling out to Steve. 

Pressing a button, Clint patched himself into the helicopter's radio transmission. "Captain Rogers, we need you to come with us. Mission's gone bad in Buenos Aires." Clint knew the man would be telling Steve that the CIA needed him right now for some bullshit mission that Clint had made up that morning. Worse, Clint knew that Steve knew this was bullshit, but there was no way of getting out of this without letting Darcy know he didn't work for the CIA, that he'd been lying to her. 

"You gotta go," Clint heard Darcy tell him. "It's okay, I can get home on my own."

"I'm really sorry, sweetheart," Steve told her, and Clint's stomach went tight again when they kissed. So as bad as Clint felt about Darcy being left alone in the ferris wheel car, a part of him felt a smug relief when Steve climbed onto the ladder, and began climbing up as it flew away, back to the wilds of New Jersey. 

Mission accomplished.


	10. Chapter 10

For someone as old and 'mature' as Clint was supposed to be, he had a stupidly adolescent sense of humor. "He's where?" Steve asked, sitting up with a start at his desk at HQ.

Sam Wilson's voice was low and conspiratorial in his ear. "Some fancy fondue place in Queens."

All of a sudden, Steve wished he wasn't having his partner tailed tonight on his date. He really didn't want to know all of this. But after that fiasco last weekend, Steve figured turnabout was fair play. "Does she look like she's having a good time?" he asked, turning slowly in his swivel chair, staring at the ceiling.

"I don't know… I guess?" was the confused answer from Sam. Steve felt a twinge of regret at lying to one of his good friends, but there was no way he could risk going out and doing this himself. "Agent Barton sure doesn't look like he's working undercover right now, Cap. I don't think I've ever seen him smile so much." Steve could hear the doubt in Sam's voice. "You're sure he's in trouble?"

"That's what makes him such a great spy. The best ones never do." Steve began packing up his laptop, stuffing it into his bag and gathering all the rest of his things. Time to get out of here. "Keep an eye on things for me."

 

The subway ride home was the longest thirty minutes of his life. "What's happening now?" Steve asked, flipping his phone open as soon as he stepped out of the subway station closest to his Brooklyn brownstone.

"They're at a club, just got here," Sam replied, sounding out of breath. "He bought a couple beers and right now they're dancing." 

"Dancing?"

"Yeah. She's dancing really close to him." 

"How close?"

"Very close. He must not think he's in any danger."

"And he needs to stay that way. She's the one we're following. If she thought that he was an undercover agent, she would kill him right now." Steve opened the door to his apartment, turning on the light and dropping his bag on the sofa. "Sam, it's possible that Clint's been compromised. We need to protect him from her and from himself." 

Sam sounded like he wasn't entirely sure of that, but to Steve's surprise, he didn't call him out on it. "Whatever you say, Cap. Just tell me what you need."

Steve glanced at a reflection of himself in his hallway mirror, wondering why he was doing this to a friend. "This is what I need. I need that girl to walk out of here, on her own volition, by herself. In fact," he added, an angry glint in his eye, "it would be best if she were angry at him. That way, she won't attempt to contact him again, or any sort of retaliation." 

Doubt began to creep into Sam's voice. "Steve?"

"Trust me. if she leaves, he's safe, and with any luck, she won't bother him anymore."

"Okay… I got an idea. I'll take care of it."

 

All in all, Steve wasn't surprised when he heard a knock at his door around 2AM. "What the fuck, Rogers?" Clint asked, standing there, a dark bruise forming on his left cheek. 

"You alright?" Steve asked, genuinely concerned (and feeling more than a little guilty).

"No," Clint spat back angrily, pushing Steve aside and heading into his apartment. Clint made his way toward Steve's kitchen, opened up the freezer and pulled out a bag of frozen peas, pressing it against the back of his head. "Don't I look like someone who's perfectly fine?"

"What happened?"

"I dunno… just this." Clint held up a small dart. Steve recognized it as one that SHIELD used in their tranquilizer guns. "Woke up about half an hour ago in an alley behind a nightclub. Had to fight off two guys trying to steal my coat."

Steve slumped against the door. "Look, I'm sorry. I just thought… I dunno." He walked back toward his living room, falling into one of his chairs, letting Clint take the sofa. "Just wanted to get you back for the other day at the ferris wheel. It really pissed me off," Steve added, trying to explain but just feeling more and more petty.

Clint made a huffing noise. "Did Darcy get home okay?" he asked, his voice low.

"Yeah," Steve nodded. "Eleven forty-five, locked up tight in her house." Steve had someone track her all the way home. "It was a dick move, Clint. It won't happen again." 

"It's not all your fault," Clint rubbed the back of his neck. "Guess I was the one who started it." Clint exhaled low. "You know, I was thinking, while I was laying there in the alley… this shouldn't be a fight between us. We're friends, and we both like her. So why don't we let her decide."

Steve tilted his head. "Darcy gets to pick?"

"Yeah." Clint was still staring at his clasped hands. "We both date her, as long as she wants both of us, but at some point she's gonna want to chose, right?"

"I guess." 

"So when she chooses, the other man bows out gracefully." 

Steve thought about it for a moment. "It's a good idea. I'm in." Clint nodded, and accepted Steve's outstretched hand. "Look, Barton, it's late. Crash on my sofa tonight - it's the least I could do after screwing up your date tonight." Steve touched his shoulder. "First one up makes breakfast," he added, hoping he'd been forgiven.

Clint nodded, a tired laugh escaping. "Thanks, Cap." He stood, stretching slowly. "Can I take a shower first? I feel like I got that alley all over me."

"No problem."

Fifteen minutes later Steve was sitting heavily on the side of his bed in his dark bedroom, leaning forward and holding his head in his hands. The decision that they'd come to made sense - let Darcy decide. It was as fair as it could be for the two of them. 

One of them would get the girl, and the other one would accept it. 

So why did Steve feel like he'd be losing the both of them if she chose Clint?

It wasn't a crazy notion. Clint was a great guy, and Steve knew that even though Darcy enjoyed spending time with him, Clint had a way about him that made people just like him. He put people at ease, got them to relax, and Darcy was the exact same way. Made sense that they'd get along so well.

Steve was so lost in thought, he didn't hear the shower turn off. The bathroom door cracked open, and he looked up to see if Clint needed anything. 

Nothing, no one came out, just steam escaping. Just as Steve was about to close his door, he saw Clint step in front of the mirror, just the side of his body - but Clint was naked, and Steve couldn't help but look. 

Muscles. Clint was lean and compact, the kind of raw power that lies dormant until sprung, like a lion right before it leaps. 

And he was standing naked in Steve's apartment. 

Fuck.

His dreams that night were a jumbled mess, dark and sexual in a way that they hadn't been since before he was frozen. _Darcy riding his cock, bouncing up and down as he caught her breasts with his mouth, then it was Clint, sucking him off, looking up at him with those dark eyes and when he turned his head and saw Bucky standing in the doorway, shaking his head slowly at him._

Steve woke with a start, his heart racing. Footsteps in the other room distracted him, then the sound of his front door opening and closing. "Clint?" he called out, reaching for his pistol and padding through the dark into his living room. 

The sofa was empty, save for a blanket, folded neatly with the pillow on top, but no one sleeping under it. 

No one was there. Clint was gone.


	11. Chapter 11

"Can you come up for a drink?"

"Sure," Steve said, his smile so warm and bright, Darcy couldn't stop looking at it. Steve's arm felt so good around her shoulders as they walked up the flight of stairs to her apartment. The night had been amazing so far, dinner and slow dancing and now they were standing outside her door. 

"You sure you want… company right now?" Steve asked, pushing a stray tendril out of her face. He looked worried, and more than anything, Darcy wanted to get that look off his face. 

She took his hand, and walked them into her small living room. "What can I get you?" she asked, watching Steve curiously examining her things. 

"Anything's good," Steve told her, turning to give her that smile again. "Whatever you're having." 

She brought a couple soft drinks and set them down on the table in front of the sofa. "You were kinda quiet tonight. Anything you wanna talk about?" 

"No, I just… I like you, Darcy. And… I hope you like me." Steve ran a hand through his hair, and Darcy reached up to catch it and give it a squeeze. He looked a little nervous. “And I want to apologize for the way I had to just leave the other day. Can't exactly say no when the CIA needs you.”

“Oh. Well, it’s not like you could help it, right? I mean, I get that the whole world-saving thing isn’t exactly 9 to 5,” she pointed out. But he still looked unconvinced, and Darcy bit her lip. 

She thought about what Tony had said. Maybe sleeping with Steve would give her an idea on whether or not he was the right one for her. Sliding onto his lap, she reached up, running her fingers through his soft hair. "Tell me what I can do to show you how much I like you."

Steve's fingers traced along her face, so gentle it surprised her. “You don’t need to prove anything to me, Darcy,” he murmured, his eyes following the path of his hand as it approached her mouth. A groan escaped him as her hands grazed against his scalp, and the slow smile that followed made Darcy’s heart thump. He slid one arm around her, his hand skimming over her back as he pulled her in closer.

Something Darcy had discovered over their past few dates was that Steve _loved_ this. Being close, touching… there had been a lot of slow kisses and gentle touches, which she thoroughly enjoyed. But there was a little teasing, too, a hint of something simmering just beneath the surface, and those make out sessions had gotten more intense lately. And as she shifted closer, settling herself more snugly into Steve’s lap so that her skirt rode up and she was pressed against that broad chest, Darcy could feel Steve’s reaction.

“I know I don’t have to,” she said at last, tugging gently on his hair. Steve’s eyes went dark, and Darcy tugged again, just because. He was a good man--a gentleman, which was probably even rarer these days, but that promise of more underneath the surface made her shift against him. “I just want this. I want you,” she said as she pressed her mouth against his, soft and teasing at first but then deeper. Her hands slid out of his hair as she looped her arms more snugly around his neck.

"Darcy," Steve murmured, his eyes fluttering closed as they kissed. When she pulled back, looking into those blue eyes, she saw nothing but hunger and need, his pupils blown. Steve reached for her right hand, pulling it down and pressing it against his crotch. She inhaled at the feel of him, so hard and so big. "Darcy, honey, you sure?"

"Yeah," she told him, rubbing her hand, her eyes widening at the sounds Steve made when she touched him. "You like that?" she asked, pressing the heel of her hand down. 

Steve's head fell on her shoulder, groaning. "Oh yeah, doll, just like that." One of his hands slid under her shirt, scratching lightly against her back and it was her turn to groan. "God, Darce..." Steve's hands seemed to be all over her body, cradling her ass, tugging on her shirt and pulling it over her head. 

"Steve, fuck," Darcy groaned, watching him mouth at her lace-covered breast, that undercurrent of hunger rising to the surface each second. "Please baby..."

That was it. Steve's arm wrapped tight around her waist and he stood, lifting her like she weighed nothing, just holding her with one arm while the other pulled off his own shirt and she got her own eyeful of the perfect male specimen.

He carried her to her room effortlessly. Darcy realized he was rubbing himself against her panties, and she dug her fingers into the back of his hair, pulling his head back and finding that lush mouth again, biting kisses that seared, heat pooling through her body. That small motion of his hips, using her body to make himself feel good, had Darcy's mind reeling at the raw desire and need in that action. She thought Steve Rogers was a boy scout, tender and gentle. 

Then he tossed her down on her bed. She landed with a soft huff, their eyes locked as he started unbuckling his belt, staring at her as he undressed and Darcy knew she was dead wrong. 

 

Darcy blinked her eyes open. She stretched, an ache in her body reminding her about what happened last night. _Steve_. Turning, she reached out to the other side of the bed, but it was empty. 

Rolling over to her side, she picked up the sheet of paper left on the pillow. 

_Darcy, I had a meeting in D.C. this morning, and didn't have the heart to wake you. You are so beautiful when you sleep. Call me later, though. I want to hear your voice today._

_Thank you for last night. It was amazing. You are amazing.  
Steve_

Beneath the words was a quick sketch Steve had made of her asleep, her hair spilled all over her pillow. She looked peaceful. Darcy sighed. Right now, she felt anything but peaceful. 

Steve. Fuck, last night had been intense and kind of rough and… kinky? Was that the right word? Darcy couldn't help the smile on her face when she remembered the way he growled in her ear as he fucked her from behind, his big hands holding her body like she belonged to him, fingers splayed across her breasts and throat.. They fucked standing up, pressed against the wall, Steve pinning her hands high above her head as he mouthed over her tits, her legs wrapped tight around his hips. Then once more in the shower, slower this time, exploring each other's bodies with their hands and mouths, Steve groaning loud as he came all over her chest. 

Fuck. She already knew Steve had a heart of gold. 

But who would suspect that under those stars and stripes was the sex drive of a bad boy. 

But it did help, as much as Darcy hated to admit that Tony was right. She knew now that Steve was the one she should be with. He might be the perfect man - sweet and considerate and an amazing fuck in bed. He had everything she wanted - and more. 

Decision made. 

 

**Darcy: Can we meet for lunch today?  
** Clint: Sure, sounds great. Where?  
Darcy: Burger Shack at 1. 

 

Darcy loved Burger Shack. They had those really thin cut fries that she liked. But today her stomach was a bundle of nerves. Clint was such a cool guy, someone she really felt like she could hang out with anywhere. A kindred spirit, her grandma called them. But if she was going to try and make it work with Steve, then she needed to let Clint go. 

Maybe they could still be friends, right? "I'm glad you could make it today. I wanted to talk to you." Darcy dipped her fries into the ketchup, not quite catching his eyes. 

Clint's face didn't show any outward change, but she felt him stiffen slightly. "Okay," he said, popping a few fries into his mouth. "What's up?"

There was something in his eyes, even if his face didn't show it. A sadness, almost a look of inevitability, like he knew what she was going to say. _Fuck_. Darcy couldn't do this now. Not today. "I just wanted - I got you a Christmas present," she told him, "and I wanted to give it to you, in case I didn't see you before the twenty-fifth. I didn't know if you were going anywhere or not."

"You got me a present?" Clint made a grunting noise, but couldn't keep the grin off his face. "I'm not going anywhere. I don't have family or anything, so I'll just be hanging at home, ordering a pizza or something."

Darcy wasn't sure why this surprised her. "You're not doing _anything_ special?" she asked, curious.

Clint chuckled, taking a bite of his burger. "It's just another day to me, Darce. No big deal."

"No decorations, nothing? No _tree_?"

"Never had one of those," Clint told her. 

"Wait, you've never had a Christmas tree?" she asked again. "Is this like some religious thing? You don't celebrate for reasons..."

Clint shook his head. "Girl, there've been times when I didn't even have an apartment. I never know where I'll be during the holidays, and I don't have anyone to buy presents for. Fuck knows no one ever buys things for me… so it just seemed stupid to go do all that - when it's just me."

"Still," Darcy frowned, troubled by this. "It's not right." She stood, decision made. "And we're gonna take care of that right now."

Clint laughed, food in his mouth. "But I'm still eating," he protested as she tugged at his arm, following her out of the restaurant.

Three hours later, they were back in Clint's apartment with eight bags of Christmas decorations and a six foot Douglas fir. Clint held it up while Darcy fixed the trunk to the reservoir in the tree stand. "It's gonna suck up a lot of water the first day or two," she told him as she attached the screws to the bottom. "You have to check it every day. Got it?"

"Yes ma'am," Clint laughed, as they both stepped back to see if it was straight. "Smells like a forest in here."

"That's sort of the point," Darcy replied. "You never had a real tree as a kid?" she asked Clint, handing him a string of multicolored lights. 

"Grew up in an orphanage," he told her, matter of factly as he began winding the lights around the top of the tree. "Before that, my old man, well," Clint shrugged. "I don't remember ever really having Christmas with my folks. They died when I was five." Darcy must have had a shocked look on her face, because he gave her a warm smile when he turned and looked at her, his eyes a little sad despite his casual words. "It's okay, Darce. It was a long time ago."

But she felt like someone had punched her in the stomach. Orphaned at five, sent to an orphanage. "Clint…" she began, sitting down on the sofa, the bag of ornaments in her hand. "I'm so sorry." 

Clint sat down next to her, taking her hand. "It was a long time ago. And we didn't stay at the orphanage too long-"

"We?"

"My brother and me." Clint chuckled again, and Darcy knew her mouth was hanging open as she stared at him. "It's a long story," he told her, kissing the side of her head. 

She handed him a box of ornaments, trying to keep from sounding as if the emotions inside her were taking over. "I've got time, hon. Tell me all about it.."

 

It was early evening when Clint's story was done. Darcy learned about how he and his brother ran away and joined the carnival, where he learned his archery tricks, and some hard life lessons. "So you haven't seen your brother in..."

"Since I was seventeen. A long time." Darcy handed Clint the last ornament, giving him a very special smile. "But all in all, I turned out okay, right?" he asked, hanging it on a high branch.

"You turned out great, Clint." Darcy led him to the sofa. "Okay, I think that's it. Sit here, and I'm going to turn off the lights." Once he sat, she padded over to the wall, turned off the switch and then sighed as the room was filled with the soft lights from Clint's tree. He was staring at it when she returned and settled next to him, and Darcy wasn’t quite sure what the look on his face meant. "Clint, honey, you okay?" she asked.

Clint nodded, taking her hand. "I just… I didn't think it would feel like this."

"Like what?" she asked, her own heart beating faster. 

"Having this. A tree. You." Then he was looking at her, and Darcy felt it again, that stirring inside her when Clint stared at her like that, like she was the most precious treasure he'd ever seen. His hand was in her hair, his fingers threading through the strands and then he kissed her, soft and tender and her hands slid under his shirt and then -

Then it was just them.

 

"You hungry?"

Darcy smiled, rolling over to face Clint. She'd dozed off after they made love, under the twinkling lights of Clint's tree. "A little," she said, feeling exposed all of a sudden. 

Clint must have noticed, because he pulled a quilt from the sofa and covered her with it. "Get comfortable here, okay? I'm gonna make you some dinner."

"Shouldn't you have done that first?" Darcy called out as Clint pulled on his briefs and headed into the kitchen. 

"My bad," he replied, pulling out pots and pans, and before she knew it, the kitchen was filled with delicious smells. 

Wrapping the quilt around her, she padded into the kitchen. "What's this?" she asked, standing behind him as he stirred a steaming pot. 

"Spaghetti a la Barton," he said, one arm around her, kissing her cheek. "Old family recipe. Not my family, of course," he smirked as she raised an eyebrow at him. "The lady in charge of the concessions for the carnival used to make this for us." He took a spoon and offered her a taste. 

"It's great," she told him, leaning in and giving him a kiss. 

"You're great," Clint said, giving her another one of those looks, the ones that told her that she was precious to him in ways that he didn't know how to explain. It felt good, knowing that someone like Clint felt this way about her, even if Darcy's head was spinning. She hadn't come to Clint's place expecting to be with him like this - but it felt right. 

They ate in front of the television, watching _It's a Wonderful Life_. Clint had a bottle of red wine stashed above his stove, so they shared it. Darcy told him Christmas stories from her childhood, both good ones and bad. Afterward, they cleaned the kitchen, washing and putting away the dishes together, and then Clint took her by the hand and led her to his room. 

"Sit," he told her, so Darcy sat down on his bed, the only light coming from the living room and the tree's twinkling lights. She fell backward onto the mattress, closing her eyes at the feel of Clint's mouth brushing hers, his fingers feather light as they skimmed her breasts, her sides, not stopping until he nudged at her thighs, pulling them apart. Darcy gasped when Clint buried his face between her legs, using his tongue and fingers to tease and taste her, not stopping until she shuddered, crying out his name as her fingers tightened in his hair. 

But he wasn't done. "Clint," she murmured when he slid up her body, kissing her, touching her, and then after rolling on a condom, nudging his cock inside her. "Oh God, Clint," she groaned as he began rocking his hips into her, so slow at first she wanted to cry out in frustration. Clint braced one hand on each side of her head, and when she looked up and into his eyes, she saw everything he felt shining back at her as they moved against each other.

"Baby," he moaned into her neck, holding her tight as Clint rolled over onto his back. Now it was Darcy's turn to look down on him, her hair falling in his face as she rode him slow, circling her hips as Clint's calloused thumb caressed her clit. Clint's mouth tugged at each nipple and she felt that tightness pooling low inside her again, and this time, when she came she pulled him with her, the two of them panting and kissing and holding on to each other for dear life. 

 

Darcy pounded on the door to Tony's lab, knowing that he was in there. "Open up!" she called out as he poked his head around the corner. The agitated look on her face must have scared him, because a moment later she heard the lock clicking, the door sliding open. "You..." she muttered, approaching him with narrowed eyes.

"Me, yeah me what?" Tony asked, wiping his hands on a towel, thoughtfully provided by DUM-E. "I didn't do it, unless it was a great idea, then I totally did it. Nah, let's face it, I did it, whatever it was." She didn't speak, so he continued. "So what did I do?"

"Sleep with them both." Tony's eyes widened, so Darcy shook her head. "No, genius, you told me to sleep with them both."

"Ah, the master plan, yes." Hopping up on a table, he patted the side until she did the same. "So, tell me all about it. Spare no details."

But Darcy didn't feel good about this. "I'm not telling you details," she grumbled, wringing her hands together. "They're both good men, and now I've been intimate with them and I feel like I'm tricking them somehow."

"That's nuts."

"Well, that's how I feel. They both think I'm their girlfriend. These aren't men that fuck around for fun, Tony. They're good men. Steve… you know he wouldn't do anything with me unless he really really liked me, and Clint…" Darcy groaned, hiding her face in her hands. "Clint talks to me about things that gotta be hard for him to talk about. This isn't fucking around for him either."

She felt his arm wrap over her shoulder. "What is it for you?" he asked, his voice strangely low and quiet.

"I dunno," she shrugged, feeling more lost than she had in years. She glanced over at Tony, sighing deeply. "I just don't know what to do."


	12. Chapter 12

Clint was still riding that high when he got to headquarters the next morning. He stopped by the break room and poured himself some coffee before heading to the office, where he slouched in his chair and put his feet up on his desk. Darcy had stayed the night, snuggling into his arms as they fell asleep, and when Clint had woken early that morning, he’d just lay there watching her sleep and enjoying the feel of her soft curves pressed against him. The light from the window was still dim when he’d started to slowly kiss her awake, first her nose and then her cheeks. Then he’d dipped his head to mouth at one full breast, and he’d heard her sleepy sigh and looked up to find her eyes open, still a little unfocused as she reached down to brush her fingers over his hair. 

They’d made love again, and then he’d fed her breakfast, just bagels and cream cheese, but they had almost gotten distracted again when she reached over to swipe at a smear of cheese at the corner of his mouth and then sucked her finger clean slowly, the tip of her pink tongue just visible as she slowly pulled the digit free. Somehow they’d managed to finish eating and dress so that she would have time to go home and change for work, but it had been hard. Clint couldn’t remember the last time he’d enjoyed anyone’s company that much, and when he thought about the way she’d insisted upon getting the tree and helping him decorate he felt warm inside. 

Yeah, she was special to him. As he sipped his coffee and skimmed through his email on his tablet, Clint’s mind was more on what he could do to show her how much. A perusal of the New York City Ballet's website told him that he could get two orchestra level tickets (best available) to the Nutcracker for tomorrow night for about $260 a piece. Darcy would like that, he was sure of it, and after what she'd done to bring Christmas to his little apartment, he wanted to show her how much it meant to him. 

It was a strange feeling. Clint had never felt like this, not when the feeling was reciprocated. But Darcy cared about him and Clint wanted to shower her with gifts, anything she wanted, everything she wanted - just to make her as happy as she made him. 

Thirty minutes later, he had the tickets printed out, along with a recipe for roasted leg of lamb. Maybe if she didn't have plans, they could spend the holiday together. With any luck, the first of many…

He glanced up when the door opened again and Steve walked in, a stack of folders under one arm and his own coffee in hand. 

“Hey,” Clint greeted him. He felt a pang at the idea of Steve being hurt, but after yesterday, Clint felt pretty good about his chances with Darcy. This wasn't just dating… this might be the real thing. “How was D.C., Cap? Anything interesting?” 

Steve groaned as he swallowed a mouthful of coffee. “Just more congressional red tape,” he replied. He sighed as he sank into his chair and put the files down on his desk. 

Clint groaned in sympathy. “Better you than me, then. I’d probably be getting a call from Phil now, or getting reamed out by Hill for smarting off to a senator or something if it were me,” he admitted. He had his share of meetings with policymakers, and Clint was damn glad he was generally left to do his job. Steve, on the other hand, was an icon, even if he hated being used as such.

“I came close a couple times,” Steve told him. “Finally suggested they let me get back to doing my job instead of just talking about it.” Clint watched as Steve set the mug down and stretched, rolling his shoulders. “Pretty sure Darcy’ll understand why I had to leave so quickly the other morning, but still.” 

Clint stopped. "The other morning?"

"Yeah," Steve nodded, sitting down at his desk. "I know we had agreed to let her choose, Clint, but… I think we made a connection the other night. It was… special." Steve had this faraway look in his eyes that quickly darkened. "She didn't tell you?"

"Nope," Clint replied, "she didn't." Clint's stomach twisted at the idea of the two of them together, though he wasn't sure what hurt more - imagining Darcy's face… or Steve's as they lay together, snuggling. "So you just left her?"

“I wrote a note,” Steve said, and Clint watched the way the corner of his mouth turned up. “Too pretty while she slept, I didn't want to wake her. But I arranged to have flowers sent to her office.” Steve kept watching Clint's face. "She really didn't say anything to you about us?" he asked again, almost disbelieving.

"We haven't… haven't seen much of her lately." The lie slid out of Clint's mouth so easily, it surprised him. "Would you be upset if I had?"

"I dunno," Steve admitted. "Maybe. I just think - it's not a game for me anymore. I think…" Steve's face broke out into the sweetest smile Clint had ever seen. "I think I love her."

Clint's heart sank, like a black hole opened up inside him. It felt like he was falling. "Love," he murmured. "...that's a big word." 

"It's a big feeling." Steve's face - it lit up like fireworks, his smile blinding. "You upset?" he asked, eyeing Clint carefully and Clint began to wonder what Steve would say if he answered yes. Yes, it upset him that his best friend was in love with the most special woman he'd met in years… and he was upset that Steve wasn't in love with him. 

But Clint didn't say anything like that. What could he say? Given the choice between a busted up old carnie with commitment issues and a superhero, the choice was obvious. "Who am I to stand in the way of true love?" he replied coolly, reaching for his jacket and heading out of the office. "Off to see Koenig. Catch you later."

He had to get out of there.


	13. Chapter 13

Steve stared at the file in front of him and blinked when he realized he’d read the same paragraph at least three times. He shook his head and determinedly moved onward, flipping the page over and putting it aside… and then had to pick it up again almost immediately when he realized he had no idea what he was reading. He had picked up the file on the way into the office, intending to study up on their next mission, but something about that conversation with Clint had him distracted.

He frowned as he skimmed the page again, trying to find his train of thought, but when he felt his eyes begin to glaze over again he shook his head and let the paper drop. Instead, he plunked his elbows on the desk, the heels of his hands pressing into his eyes in an attempt to clear his mind. “C’mon, Rogers,” he muttered to himself, but still he found his attention wandering back to Clint and he frowned as he considered that brief exchange again.

Clint had seemed… happy, he realized. There’d been something about his face, his body language when Steve had walked into their shared office. But that had disappeared right about the time Steve had mentioned the trip to D.C.—

No, he realized.

Clint’s good mood had vanished when Steve had mentioned leaving Darcy in his bed that morning, and he blinked and sat back in his chair. He’d done a pretty good job of pretending indifference, but little things kept occurring to Steve, things he hadn’t registered at the time but which he had filed away in his memory just the same. The flicker of something raw that had shown on Clint’s face for a fraction of a second, and then the way he’d gone quiet for a moment when Steve had acted surprised that Darcy hadn’t mentioned to Clint that they’d gotten more serious. And, of course, Clint had gone rushing off to see Koenig, and now that Steve thought about it he recalled that Koenig was supposed to be off in Vancouver with Coulson on some hush-hush mission.

Steve sighed. He hoped Clint wasn’t going to take it badly, because he valued their friendship a lot. But as he stared blankly down at the file again, Steve was puzzling over Clint’s behavior, wondering if it really was just wounded pride at the realization that he and Darcy had grown so much closer, or if there were something else going on. At last, he groaned and dropped his head to the desk for a moment. He couldn’t focus.

Maybe a change of subject would help, he decided, shuffling the papers back into a neat stack and closing the file. He pushed it aside and checked the other folders stacked in his inbox, but nothing really jumped out at him. Just as he was leaning back in his chair, arms crossed, and wondering whether he should just go grab some coffee or an early lunch to refocus himself, he spotted the familiar black “Eyes Only” folder peeking out from under some papers on Clint’s desk. The sticky note on the front was the same one he’d slapped on there a few days ago, some impressions he’d jotted down and passed to Clint for him to check up on, see if he agreed.

Steve got up and went over to get the file off of Clint’s desk, so focused on the file and the mission that he let the papers covering it fall to the floor as he picked up the folder. He tucked it under his arm and crouched down to clean up the mess he’d made, not really paying attention to any of the documents as he gathered them in one hand.

Not until he had to stretch to nab the last one, which had sailed a few feet away before coming to rest on the worn carpet. Steve was moving to stack it with the others when the logo at the top caught his eye. He blinked at the words in the graduated shades of gray and black, the clean minimalist design at odds with the images the words brought to mind. Clint had bought ballet tickets?

He stood up slowly, not really meaning to pry, but Steve didn’t like the feeling in the pit of his stomach as he sank into Clint’s desk chair and put aside the file folder. All thoughts of work were on hold while he spread the handful of papers out on Clint’s desk and began to read, and that empty feeling in his middle only grew more intense. Tickets to the _Nutcracker_ … good ones, too, he observed. And recipes… or an entire menu, he realized belatedly as he slipped the pages back into order. A home-cooked meal, something fancy enough for an important date and yet at the same time cozy and simple, a good counter to the splurge on the tickets.

All in all, Steve realized as he sat there in agony, it was the perfect date for a man to show his girl he was serious. Perfect for Darcy, too, since he’d heard her mention the ballet, and he knew she liked simple, good food more than a flashy, trendy dinner somewhere expensive. He couldn’t have planned it any better. And he hadn’t even thought of it.

Clint had been lying. Steve knew that, had probably known it on some level since he’d left so abruptly. But now, looking at the tickets and the meal, all of the things Clint had planned, Steve understood why. He was in love with Darcy, too. And Steve’s careless bragging earlier—because he recognized now, that’s exactly what it had been—that had been the thing that had made Clint bolt; the realization that Steve was serious about her, too.

He dropped the papers on Clint’s desk, which was messy enough that he was fairly confident Clint would never realize they’d been moved. Steve got up and went back over to his own desk, dropping into the chair and propping his elbows on the desk, his head in his hands. He didn’t like this feeling, like he was being torn in two. How could he choose between the two of them? 

Darcy was amazing--she was beautiful, funny, kind… a real sweetheart in the best sense of the word. But then Clint… they’d been through so much together, had each other’s backs in battle, and then there was the fact that he might have denied it to Clint when he’d turned him down, but Steve was pretty sure he’d been in love with the other man for ages. He just… he’d panicked. And now Clint was moving on. Steve would be a complete jerk to get in the way of that. No, he decided, the right thing was to end it with Darcy now. 

That didn’t make it any easier, but then Steve had learned a long time ago that right rarely meant easy. He scrubbed at his face, leaning back and staring up at the ceiling as if asking for guidance.

He was still right there when his phone vibrated in his pocket, and he reached for it out of habit, aware that it might be a mission about to go live.

Instead, it was Sam, and to his surprise Steve realized it was past eleven. _In the neighborhood to check out some new toys. Lunch at O’Riley’s?_

Steve glanced over at the innocent-looking papers on Clint’s desk for a moment, still wrangling with his decision. At last he shrugged and tapped in his reply, aware that he’d probably be better off for getting some fresh air—and maybe some advice. _Meet you in ten._

It was more like twenty when he and Sam were seated in O’Riley’s and studying the menu. Or at least, Sam was.

“This has to be a first,” Sam joked as he handed his menu back to the waitress. “You, Steve Rogers, not hungry? You sure you’re feeling all right, big guy?”

Steve gave Sam a faint smile, then shook his head. “No big deal. Just got a lot going on. You know how it is.”

“I guess you do,” Sam agreed as he picked up his cider and took a slow sip. “So how’s it going with that girl of yours, Cap? Sounded like it was getting pretty hot and heavy between you two,” he said with a grin.

Steve played with his straw paper, smoothing it out flat and then folding it in careful triangles, like the flag. “…She’s a great girl,” he said at last, flicking the paper aside and taking a drink of his coffee. “But we’re not meant for each other.” He slid a little lower in his seat as he said it, wondering how many times he’d have to repeat the words before he’d start to believe them.

Probably a thousand, at least.


	14. Chapter 14

“’Sup, boss man?” Darcy said cheerfully as she came into the lab with a thick stack of contracts, all marked with sticky arrows where Tony needed to sign on the dotted line.

“You’re only calling me that because you want me to sign something,” Tony retorted, giving her a shrewd look. “We’ve been over this, Lewis. No to the handing things and signing things.”

“Fine.” Darcy plunked the stack down on the counter in front of Tony and slapped the pen down on top of it. “Not handed to you. And while I can’t change the fact that you’ve gotta sign each and every one of them, they’re good ones. You do good sometimes, Tony,” Darcy admitted, her tone more grudging than she felt. She couldn’t give everything away to him, after all. “And Pepper—I mean, Ms. Potts—

“Pepper,” Tony corrected.

Darcy waved her hand. “Whatever. Not the point. Pepper might be the one who drew these up, but they’ve got your name all over them.” She paused. “But I thought you got out of the defense business. Other than, you know, Avenging.” 

“Ah. Those,” Tony said, plucking the first contract off the pile and riffling through it, muttering to himself. “…I guess they’re not so bad, maybe.” He skimmed through to the end, then put it down and picked up the pen. “Fine, Lewis. And no, not out of the defense business entirely. This is… you might say it’s a personal favor.”

Darcy leaned her hip against the counter, watching as Tony initialed and scrawled his signature on that first file, not missing a page or a single bright purple arrow. “Remind me to remind you to get some of these in red and gold,” he said, tossing her a pointed look.

“I’ve already got red,” Darcy replied with a smirk. “And blue. Don’t change the subject, Stark,” she added, poking him in the arm.

“Of course you do. And ow, what? What was that for, Lewis?” Tony squawked, squirming away and rubbing his arm.

“Those files. Who do you think typed the final copies?” she asked, crossing her arms. “I thought SHIELD didn’t exist any more.”

“What, neither of your boyfriends mentioned that?” he asked, flippant.

“Uh, no,” Darcy began slowly. “Why would they? Clint’s been doing contract work or something. And Steve, he’s been back and forth to DC, working for the CIA as a favor to somebody. And besides, he helped take them down, showed everybody that HYDRA was still around.”

“All true,” Tony agreed as he scribbled a note in the margin of the second file. “And yet, as so often happens, not the whole truth.” He looked up, then put the pen aside and swiveled to face Darcy, his face uncharacteristically serious. “Shit. You really don’t know, do you?”

“Know what?” Darcy asked, frowning. She shifted her weight, crossing her arms as she gave Tony her full attention.

“Well, A, that SHIELD is not so dead as everyone thinks. And before you ask, you’re cleared to know this. Because I say so, and also… well, because I say so is enough, but also because you came highly recommended for your job.”

“I knew that,” Darcy said with a shrug. “I mean, I figured maybe Agent Coulson had said something before… he was impressed with how organized I kept the lab, back in New Mexico. And don’t change the subject again.”

“Fine, fine. So, point B. That would be the part where your two lovesick young lotharios evidently didn’t know you’d been vetted. Maybe they thought you weren’t cleared, maybe whatever they’re working on right now is need-to-know. You’d have to ask them.” Tony paused again. “There’s something else you should probably know, too. And before you ask, I had no idea until this morning's meeting, when I asked a few questions.” 

He looked uncomfortable, and Darcy wondered what on earth could be bad enough to make Tony Stark look like that. “What didn’t you know?” 

Her worry only grew when Tony sighed and reached out, resting his hand on her shoulder. “Clint and Steve… they’re partners, Darcy. They work together there. Not just the whole Avenging, world-saving thing.” 

Darcy stared at him. “They never mentioned that to me. Neither of them. Not once.” And as that fact began to sink in Darcy pulled away from Tony and wheeled around, heading for the door. 

“Darcy--” she heard behind her, but she didn’t stop. 

“I’ve gotta go, Tony. Would you tell Pepper that I had to take an early lunch, or you sent me to find something for you, I don’t know. Just… I’ve gotta go.” 

 

She knew where to go. She’d been there already a couple of times, dropping things off or picking things up for Pepper, and if Darcy had learned anything from her past dealings with SHIELD, it was that they enjoyed hiding in plain sight. So when she strode into the glass lobby of the Stark Industries Annex ten minutes later, she swept past the security guard with a wave, never slowing down. And swiped herself through the gate, which gave its usual metallic thunk as it unlocked to let her pass.

There was an open elevator waiting. Darcy hopped on and jabbed the door close button, taking a moment to study the panel. Where would she be, if she were an Avenger with something to hide? Making her decision, she punched the button just below the top floor. And swiped her badge again when prompted.

Some part of her was still surprised when the elevator swept into motion. Darcy watched the floors tick by on the indicator above the doors, her arms crossing again as she felt the car slowing to a stop, the motion abrupt enough to make her stomach jump.

She started to the left when she got off, remembering enough about the layout of the lower floors to know that there were probably conference rooms to the right. Darcy kept her stride purposeful as she scanned the office doors, some open and some closed. It wasn’t until she turned the corner, though, that she heard one of the voices she was looking for.

Their door was open, and they were both at their desks. Steve had a mug of coffee halfway to his mouth while Clint was leaning back in his chair, his booted feet propped on the desktop as he studied a file. “Surprise,” Darcy said, her voice flat.

The coffee sloshed all over Steve’s desk as he jumped, and some part of Darcy would’ve laughed and teased him about that. Another time. And Clint, he almost tipped backward, and Darcy still found it in her to be concerned as she stepped forward into the office, watching him flail to stay upright.

“Darcy—“

“Darce, I…”

She held her hands up. “Were you ever planning on telling me? I mean, I get that I didn’t exactly say anything to either of you, but then I also didn’t know you worked together every day. That you’re partners. Agents.”

“Darcy, I swear to you it’s not like that.” Steve was up and around the desk and reaching for her, and Darcy backed away, the motion taking her closer to Clint, who was quick to stand and reach out, his hand coming to rest on her back.

“Not like what, Cap? Like you and Clint have been comparing notes or something? You never told me. Neither of you.” She moved away from Clint, too, backing toward the wall, and tried to ignore the hurt on Steve’s face when she used his rank.

“Darce, no,” Clint said, moving in on her right. “It wasn’t like that. We just… we both wanted you.”

“Clint—“ Steve began, a warning note in his voice.

Darcy clutched her badge tighter, the edges of the card cutting into her palm. “And you both knew that.”

“Dammit, Steve, don’t _Clint_ me,” Clint barked at him, ignoring Darcy’s comment. “This whole ‘let the best man win’ thing? It backfired, all right?”

“Yeah, well, you got what you wanted,” Steve returned, his jaw tightening. Darcy blinked, a little startled to see the temper rising in Steve’s expression. “So let it go, Barton.”

“No. I’m not fucking letting it go, _Rogers_ , because in case you hadn’t noticed, Darcy’s upset. And I don’t know what the fuck you mean about me getting what I want…”

Darcy blinked at the two of them. Clint had moved in front of her slightly, his posture tense as he stared Steve down. The two of them were at each other’s throats, suddenly, and she wasn’t entirely sure what was going on. The tension in the room was electric, though, and… oh.

 _Oh._ She caught a flash of something crossing Steve’s face, a look she’d seen only once before. Directed at her. Darcy’s head swiveled between the two of them as they snarled and snapped at each other, getting right up in each other’s faces. In each other’s space.

But as Clint shifted his weight, his body somehow coiling tight as a spring, like he was about to attack, she saw the same shift in Steve. And Darcy leapt forward, shoving herself between the two of them. _”Stop it,”_ she snapped at them both, and when Steve tried to bodily move her out of the way she pressed her hands flat against his solid chest and pushed. “Get off.”

“You heard, her, Rogers. Back the fuck off,” Clint said, his voice low and dangerous.

Darcy whipped around. “No, you back off, too, Clint,” she told him, her voice shaking. “Both of you. Just… stop. I can’t do this. I’m not going to be responsible for this.”

Steve held his hands up, still tense but frowning as he stared down at her. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Darcy…”

“This. You two, fighting. I don’t want you fighting over me. You can’t, all right?” Her voice broke somewhere in the middle of that last sentence, and Darcy felt Clint moving in behind her, his voice low as he said her name. “No. I’m not… you can’t do this. Not over me.”

“Darcy.” Steve stayed where he was, his voice even but his temper clearly not entirely in check. “This is not about you. This is between Agent Barton and me.”

Darcy shook her head, backing toward the door as she felt a sob welling up. “You’re wrong. You’re fighting because of me. And I’m hurt and angry that you didn’t think it was important to tell me you’re _partners_. Or that you’re still just a couple of jackbooted thugs.”

The last comment confused Steve, she could see that, but it hit home with Clint. Darcy scrubbed a hand over her cheek, wondering when she’d started to cry. “So… I’m going now. Don’t follow me,” she added, giving Clint a pointed glance as she slipped out the door.

Darcy could hear them both calling after her, but she kept her head down as she charged back down the corridor. There were a few more doors open this time around, and she gave a watery laugh as she realized the grapevine must have spread the news fast. She held it together, more or less, until she was down the elevator and out the doors again, but as she reached the sidewalk in front of the Annex Darcy let out a ragged sob and swiped her hand across her face again. She plucked her glasses off, frustrated, and tucked them in her pocket as she tried to stem the tears, aware she was making a spectacle of herself but unable to care much about that. 

She managed a deep, uneven breath as she hurried down the sidewalk, wanting nothing more than to get away from the Annex, from Clint and from Steve and everything that had just happened. Darcy wasn’t paying any particular attention to where she was going, too caught up in her confusion and hurt, and when she ran smack into someone she planted her hands to steady herself, already mumbling her apology. “Sorry, buddy, I just…”

But as she backed away, Darcy realized she was caught tight against a broad, solid body, and she sucked in a breath. “Look, I’m all right, dude, just…”

“I really don’t think you are,” a gravelly voice said. “And don’t even think about screaming, Miss Lewis.”


	15. Chapter 15

Neither man spoke after Darcy left. 

A few minutes later, Steve got up and left the room. Clint wasn't surprised - if anything, he was pissed he hadn't thought about heading to the gym himself. But he was sure that's where Steve went, to punch out some of his frustration on a heavy bag (better that than punching him). So Clint remained at his desk, staring at the same report on his laptop for half an hour. 

A buzzing sound came from Steve's desk. Clint looked over to see Steve's phone, vibrating next to his computer. An image flashed across the screen and from his desk Clint's eyes widened, jumping up and grabbing the phone. 

That cold feeling against inside him. _No no no,_ he thought, or maybe he was saying it aloud. Grabbing the phone, he ran as fast as he could out of their office, down the six flights of stairs and pushing the doors of the gym open, he spotted Steve, his jacket and button down shirt discarded as he punched the bag over and over. "Rogers!"

Steve turned toward him, still angry until he saw Clint's face. "What happened?" he called out, jogging toward Clint, who simply showed Steve his phone. 

A picture of Darcy, blindfolded, her mouth taped. 

**Did you lose something, Cap?**

"Clint…" 

That image disappeared, replaced by an address, one Clint quickly memorized. **Come alone.** Then, **What the hell, bring your lapdog.** Steve grabbed the phone back, staring. "Staten Island," Clint told him.

Steve grabbed his shirt and jacket and they both headed for the elevator. "You know it?" he asked as they stepped inside, pressing the button for their office.

"It's near the harbor. SHIELD had access to it, back before," Clint nodded as he reached for his phone.

"What are you doing?" Steve asked, stepping close, frowning.

"Gonna call Nat," he said, only to have Steve's hand suddenly covering his phone. "'What are you-"

"He said we go alone," Steve told him, his voice low as he stared straight into Clint's eyes. "He'll kill her if he spots anyone else."

The elevator door opened and they got out and headed for their office. "He won't spot Nat-"

"Rumlow was SHIELD, Clint. He's HYDRA, the first thing he thinks we'll do is call in our back-up. He'll be waiting for them," he said, his voice growing louder. "It's not a chance that we can take." 

Clint didn't speak. The tactician in him knew Steve was probably right, but that didn't mean he liked it. "You got a plan?" he asked, watching Steve as he began loading weapons into an old bag. 

"Yeah," Steve nodded, zipping the bag and reaching for his shield. Picking up the case that held Clint's bow, he thrust it in Clint's hands. "This is on us, Barton, you and me. We go in, and we go in alone. We take him out, and we bring our girl home."

 

They made it to the address, an abandoned building just as old and dilapidated Clint remembered. "What are you thinking, Clint?" Steve asked as he glanced around the empty parking lot, appearing to take it all in. "Gut feeling - anyone out here?"

"Smart thing would be some cover out here, but if he's on his own... "

"Yeah," Steve agreed as they stepped out of Clint's car. "This feels more personal. A vendetta." Reaching into his bag, he tucked his service weapon behind his back, and knives into his boots. Clint grabbed extra ammunition and the two of them headed toward the building, Steve carrying his shield at the ready. 

Clint nodded, taking a breath as he shifted his bow and quiver onto his back. "Two against one, I don't mind those odds. We've faced worse," he reminded Steve as they approached the door, creaking loud as it opened.

"But he's got Darcy," Steve murmured, his face setting into something hard. The door opened into a dark hallway, which they followed until it led to a huge warehouse. 

Clint spotted an upper level with offices ringing the outer walls, but the ground level was one large open space, a few rusty shipping containers pushed off to the side. "She's probably up there," Clint said, glancing around for some stairs or an elevator, but nothing popped into view. They walked further into the warehouse, stopping only when they spotted someone walking toward them. 

Rumlow. Alone but carrying a handgun. "Captain Rogers. I'm glad to see you got my message." Rumlow nodded at Clint. "Barton, of course you're right there, nipping at his heels."

"Where's Darcy?" Steve demanded.

Rumlow shrugged. "Not sure. Can't remember where I put her."

"Dammit Brock," Clint began, stepping forward.

"It was never personal, Barton. Until now." Rumlow shot at one of the shipping containers, the sound of the bullet ricocheting off the metal. "Not there." Rumlow shot at another one, then once more. "Ah, there she is," Rumlow said, both men tensing up as they heard a high pitched pained sound as the bullet found her container. "Now, now it's personal, don't ya think?"

"What do you want."

"You killed Rollins. Well, you or Barton, so I guess either one of you dead will do. Both would be nice," he smirked, "but I'm not a greedy man."

"You're HYDRA," Clint spat out. 

"Not anymore," Rumlow answered back. Unzipping his jacket, Clint saw a large skull and crossbones painted onto an armor chestplate. "Now, now I'm just me." Stepping toward the container that Darcy's scream came from, he knocked on the outside, and they heard her cries again. "So, which one of you's it gonna be?"

Steve shook his head. "I want to see her first."

Brock shrugged. "Done." The large metal door creaked open, and Darcy stumbled outside, her face flushed from crying. "See, " he said, grinning widely as he caught her arm. "Safe and sound." Then his face grew dark again. "So tell me, which one of you do I get?"

Darcy stared at both of them, her eyes catching Clint's as she seemed to understand what was happening. "...No," she shook her head. 

"Just sit tight, sweetheart," Steve called out to her. "It's gonna be okay."

"One minute to decide," Brock called out, grabbing Darcy roughly by the hair and tugging her back toward him, his pistol against her head.

Clint turned toward Steve. "I don't care what deal he says he's making, he's not letting any of us leave alive." 

"Agreed." Steve glanced around, both men spotting the snipers who had slinked out of the upstairs offices, doing a piss poor job of hiding along the upper ledge. "Okay, this is what we'll do. I'm going to go to him and he'll release Darcy. You take out the two guys with your arrows and then get Darcy the fuck out of here as fast as you can."

"What about you?"

Steve looked up at the rifles trained on them. "I can't make that shot, Clint. You can, with your eyes closed. You get rid of them and you two run, get her out. She's the priority."

"The fuck I'm doing that. I'm not leaving you behind, Steve." Clint began running scenarios in his head, shooting the two snipers that he could see, probably one more that he couldn't. Steve would have his hands full with Rumlow. Could Clint get all four of them if they were shooting back at him? It would be tricky, but maybe… 

It was as if Steve was reading his mind. "She's too important."

"You're important too," Clint replied too fast, grabbing at Steve's shirt. 

Steve's hand covered his shirt, squeezing his fingers. He leaned in, whispering in Clint's ear. "Some people are worth dying for, Barton." Clint felt Steve's lips brush his temple, then he was gone, the loss of the sudden warmth like a shock to the system.

"...Cap," he began, but Steve was halfway there, walking slowly and deliberately toward Rumlow and Darcy. His shield dropped to his side, clanging loudly. his hands out and open by the side of his body. 

"Here I am," Steve told Rumlow. "Now let her go." 

Rumlow nodded. "Done." He tossed Darcy in Clint's direction, the gun now pointed at Steve's head. "Bye you two. Rogers and I are going to have a little talk." 

"Get her out of here, Clint!" Steve called out as Rumlow grabbed his arms, cuffing his hands behind his back. "Take care of her-" but no more words came out, Rumlow punching Steve hard in the face.

"No!" Darcy began screaming as Clint pulled her with him, back toward the hallway they came in from. "Clint no we can't- We can't leave him there!" Darcy pulled against Clint's arms, but he was stronger and got her into the dark hallway. "Clint we can't-" 

"I know," he told her. She looked so sad and scared, tears falling from her face and there was nothing Clint wanted more than to get her out of there, to protect her and keep her safe. But Steve was still back there, and she needed Steve. The two of them belonged together. "Take this," he told her, handing her his 9 mm sidearm and an extra clip. "You love him, right?"

"Clint, I… please don't go, don't leave me here-"

He kissed the top of her head. "Take this. If anyone comes at you, you empty this into them. I'm gonna go get Steve, okay? Gonna go get him for you-"

"Clint, no," she sobbed, but she took the gun, holding it in her hands. 

One more kiss and Clint turned, pulling his bow off his shoulder and began firing. He started with the sniper on the top right, aiming for the ledge, watching the sniper silently fall. Good. Stepping closer toward the open warehouse, he could see Rumlow talking to Steve, tying his legs now, preventing him from moving. Clint's fingers quickly worked his arrow selector, choosing an explosive arrow and after aiming for the second sniper, Clint let that arrow fly. 

It hit perfect, exploding under the second sniper's feet. The sniper fell forward, off the ledge, landing with a thud on the ground about twenty feet from Steve and Rumlow. "Fucking Barton," Clint heard Rumlow say, turning and shooting in his direction. Soon he heard gunfire, Darcy suddenly behind him, shooting at more snipers, - what looked like a dozen of them who began pouring out of the offices, shooting in all directions. 

Fuck. _So much for Rumlow being alone._ Clint began shooting more of them, watching them drop as he moved toward Steve, being dragged away by Rumlow and some other goon. If killing Steve was what they wanted, they could have done that by now. This meant they wanted or needed him alive, at least for a little while - for what reason Clint didn't want to think about. Soon he heard Darcy's gun stop shooting, and he knew she was out of ammo. 

Clint had about six arrows left, another pistol in his side holster, but there were so many of them. Darcy screamed, and Clint turned, torn between making sure she was okay and following Steve, now being dragged toward a van that suddenly appeared by the loading dock. Looking down, Clint saw a red dot fixed on his chest, and he knew that this might be it - he wasn't getting out of this one. 

Maybe none of them were. 

Suddenly the red dot was gone, and Clint spotted a sniper falling from the upper ledge. Then another, and another. One of the goons dragging Steve went down, and Rumlow turned to face Clint, full of rage and anger, then confusion as he realized that Clint wasn't the one doing the shooting. 

But who was?

Then Rumlow went down, a bullet taking out his right knee. Clint ran toward them, reaching Steve, falling to his knees and cutting Steve's legs free. "Are you okay?" he asked, quickly checking Steve's body for injuries. 

"Darcy?" Steve asked, his eyes worried.

"Gonna go check," Clint told him, sitting Steve up, his hands still cuffed behind his back but soon she was there, wrapping her arms around Steve, crying and sniffling and hugging him, then hugging Clint. 

"It's okay, baby," Clint told her, hugging her tight before turning her back toward Steve. "Who was it?" he asked, glancing around.

Suddenly Steve froze, his eyes widening. "Clint, get her out of here." 

Then Clint saw him too, standing on the far side of the room, holding his rifle in their direction. _Winter Soldier,_ approaching slowly, warily. "Was that _him_?" he asked. 

But Winter Soldier didn't answer. He stopped long enough to pick up Steve's shield, then resumed his walk toward them. "Bucky?" Steve called out, dragging himself. 

"Steve," Clint called out cautiously, but Winter Soldier didn't seem to be intent on hurting them. Just then Rumlow groaned again, twisting his body as if trying to move. 

Bucky shot him again, this time in the shoulder. "Bucky don't!" Steve told him, trying to get closer. "Buck, do you remember me?" he asked.

No words, no response. For a long moment, no one moved, no one _breathed_. 

Winter Soldier handed Steve his shield. "I remember… Steve," he murmured, his eyes locked on Steve's just as the warehouse filled with police, sirens blaring, people screaming at them all to get down. Clint placed his bow on the ground and lay down, one hand finding Darcy's and the other hand finding Steve's. 

 

Twenty minutes later, he'd gotten his bow back. "Are you okay?" Clint asked Darcy, sitting on the back of the ambulance. Police were still interrogating Bucky, though Steve wasn't letting him out of his sight, or letting them get too close to his old friend - who'd saved their lives. 

She nodded. "...yeah," she said slowly. He wrapped a blanket around her shoulders, lifting her chin with his fingers and staring into her eyes. Shock, he could see that clearly. But something else in there. Sadness. 

Clint took her hand in his. "You did good, Lewis. Nice shooting." That got a little smile out of her, but it felt forced. "Talk to me, kid."

She just shook her head. "Clint," she began, then stopped as Steve approached them both. "Hey," she told him, looking like she was just this side of tears.

"Hey..." Steve walked over to touch her hair, her shoulders. "Look, I gotta stay here and make sure they don't arrest Bucky."

"He saved us."

"Yeah," Steve said, a wistful smile on his face. "Says he's tired of being out there alone, wants to come in." Steve shook his head. "I wish there had been a better way."

"He saved us," Darcy repeated Clint's words. "Take care of him."

Steve smiled at them both. "I will." One more glance over at Clint. "Get her out of here, okay? Take care of her." Before Clint could argue, Steve was gone, the police back wanting to question him. 

 

Three hours passed before Clint saw Steve again.

Phil had arrived right as they were leaving the warehouse, delaying them another hour while they answered his questions. When they finally headed back to the city, Darcy demanded Clint take her to Brooklyn, to Steve's place to wait, to make sure Steve got back okay. But once they got there, she wouldn't let Clint leave, wanting to take care of his injuries herself. Clint knew where Steve kept his first aid kit (under the bathroom sink), so he let her tend to him while they waited. 

The gash on Clint's back was long and jagged, not enough to need stitches, but it hurt like fuck. 

She'd just finish patching up the larger gashes when the door to Steve's Brooklyn apartment opened slowly. Clint watched as Steve entered warily, his gun drawn, dropping only when he spotted Clint and Darcy sitting on his sofa. "Everything okay?" he asked, his shoulders dropping with a weariness Clint didn't often see in Steve. 

"We're good," Darcy answered, patting the sofa on the other side of her. "I just didn't want you to be alone right now." She glanced over at Clint, shirtless as Darcy finished bandaging his bicep, adding, "and I think the three of us need to talk. Not right now, but soon."

Steve sat down, setting his gun over on the table nearby. "I don't know how much talking I'm up for right now," he admitted. Clint had to agree, but he hadn't been able to say no to Darcy, not after what happened that afternoon. 

"You're hurt too," she told Steve, standing up. Darcy walked over to his kitchen and found a small towel, wetting it and walking toward them. Kneeling in front of Steve, she reached up and cleaned a cut on his cheek. "Hand me a bandage, Clint," she murmured, her voice low and soft. Clint watched as she pulled off what was left of Steve's shirt and wrapped a large abrasion on Steve's arm, then put some ointment on his cuts. "Super soldier or not..." she murmured, reaching up to kiss his forehead. 

Then she turned, those soft lips pressing against Clint's shoulder. "I don't want to talk about the fight we had earlier… and I don't want to talk about Rumlow, or Steve's friend. I'm tired and I'm scared and right now I just want to lie down with the two men I love more than anything else in the world. My heroes," she added, a shy smile finally breaking on her face. Glancing at Steve, Clint could see that Steve seemed as unsettled as he felt about this, but neither of them had the strength (or desire) to stop her. 

Before he knew it, Clint was following them to Steve's bedroom, sitting on the edge of Steve's bed. Darcy climbed up, sliding to the middle, kicking her shoes off before pulling them next to her, one on each side.

"Rest," she murmured, curling onto her side, snuggling up against Clint. His arms wound her automatically. "Yes," she sighed, "now you, big guy. C'mon," Darcy turned her head, reaching for Steve's arms and pulling him over her, like a blanket. 

Clint felt them all move, arrange themselves comfortably, his hands brushing Steve's sides. But their eyes didn't meet until he felt Steve's fingers stroking the back of his neck, Steve's other hand threading through Darcy's hair. Clint felt Darcy nuzzle against him, but his eyes locked on Steve's big blue eyes, feeling himself getting drowsy and warm as they lay there together. 

Soon, Darcy was asleep, and the two men just watched each other, both seemingly happy with just being alive, and having her between them. 

Clint closed his eyes. They could figure it out later. 

 

It couldn't have been more than a hour or two later when Clint's eyes blinked open. Steve was still watching over both of them. He reached over and touched Clint's hair. "Did you nap at all?" Clint whispered, not wanting to wake the sleepy woman in his arms. 

Steve shook his head no, looking so relaxed and peaceful that Clint wanted to take a picture so he could remember this moment. Just then, Darcy turned her head, blinking her eyes and glancing up at them. Her hand stroked Clint's face and he smiled down at her, finding her mouth with his when she tilted her head up toward him. Soft, tender kisses, Clint's heart racing knowing Steve was there watching them but it felt good, it felt _right_. When her hand slid down between them, Clint felt those fingers dip inside his boxers and curl around his cock. He groaned loud at that touch, amplified by the sounds Steve was making.

Darcy grinned at him. "And now you," she murmured, twisting around between them, facing Steve. Clint watched their mouths press against each other, Darcy playfully sucking on Steve's bottom lip in such a familiar way Clint knew they both loved that small gesture.

But there was no jealousy. Truth was - Clint had never been more turned on in his life. Every drop of blood in his body seemed to find its way to Clint's cock, rubbing against Darcy's perfect ass. He reached around and cupped her full tits, squeezing them, feeling both Steve and Darcy react to that small movement and soon Darcy shifted, her legs spreading as both men reached down, tugging at her panties and soon they were all undressed. 

Clint's fingers found her first, slick and wet, his thumb making small circles on her clit, feeling Steve's fingers stroking the length of her folds. "So pretty," he heard Steve mumble as he lifted Darcy's thigh, spreading her legs wider, giving Clint better access. "You like this, baby?"

Darcy responded with a searing kiss, breaking it off only when Clint's fingers darted inside Darcy and she gasped. "Oh yeah," she breathed out, turning to nuzzle Clint. "Want both you, want you both so much..."

They kissed again, and Clint watched as Steve placed a small foil package near his hand. Looking down at Darcy, Clint rubbed their noses together. "You sure?" he asked, groaning as she lifted one leg, wrapping it around his hip, pulling their bodies together and dragging her lips along his jawline. Clint smiled, held onto Darcy and carefully rolled them both over so Darcy was straddling him, those huge tits dangling in front of his face. 

_Yes..._ Clint's sucked on her pink nipples, feeling Darcy tremble and shudder on top of him. Rolling the condom onto his cock, Clint grasped it, sliding it into her with a loud grunt and just as she gasped out, Steve found her mouth and kissed her, slow and deep. Steve settled behind Darcy and kissed her shoulders, the back of her neck, pinching at her nipples while she rode Clint slowly. Clint's hands held onto her hips as his back arched, and his eyes widened when Darcy pulled Steve around, over to her side, her small hands grasping Steve's huge cock. 

Clint hadn't ever seen Steve like _this_ , so close, his eyes drawn to her hands, then her lips spread wide over Steve's thick cock as he thrust it shallowly into her mouth. But Clint wanted more, so he shifted, rearranging them, with Darcy on her hands and knees, Clint sliding back in from behind, watching Steve fuck her mouth achingly slow as his own hips began snapping faster. 

It wasn't long before Clint came with a roar, rolling off to the side, watching Steve lay on his back, Darcy crawling between his legs to take more of him in her mouth. "Clint, c'mere," she said, her hand extended and Clint lay next to them. 

Darcy sat up, and when Clint settled next to her she kissed him, slow and tender. He felt those fingers on her face, threading through his hair, and then there were more fingers, too many hands and he opened his eyes. Steve was there, and Darcy was kissing him, then Steve was kissing him, Steve's hands cradling his face. 

Steve kissed him… then Clint kissed him back, rough and playful, just like he'd always wanted. Clint's lips slid along Steve's throat, down his chest and he joined Darcy down near Steve's cock, the two of them kissing each other and taking turns taking Steve in their mouths. 

Before Clint knew it - it was just him and Steve, Darcy having shifted to the side of the bed to watch them. She held another foil packet in her fingers, offering it to them. Clint caught Steve's eyes, watching Steve as he reached for it, holding it carefully. "Yeah?" he asked Clint, tilting his head as if to see inside Clint, to make sure this is what Clint wanted. 

It was. "...yeah," Clint answered, and they kissed again, Steve prompting Darcy to hand him the bottle of lube in the night table drawer. 

Steve stood, stretching and looking down at the two of them, laying naked on his bed. "Clint, down there, yeah," he said, rolling the condom onto himself as Clint sprawled out, his head resting on Darcy's leg. Steve kissed his back, his spine, his ass, Clint felt himself spread open, explored with fingers then Steve pushed inside slow, and Clint gripped the sheets, Darcy's fingers scratching lightly up and down his back. Fuck, it was too much, that too full feeling, hard to breathe - then it was just _good_ , like an itch that Steve scratched with each stroke in and out. 

Fuck… Clint's cock rubbed against the bedsheets, the best sort of friction and then Darcy shifted, settling in front of Clint, one leg on either side of his shoulders, a twinkle in her eye. 

She didn't have to ask. Clint pulled himself closer, burying his face between her legs. Clint loved the way she tasted, using his tongue to dart everywhere, lapping at her folds, then suckling on her clit. She groaned loud, her hands cupping her own tits as she leaned back against the wall, and Clint felt Steve slam even harder into his ass when she made those sounds. Big hands, huge hands grasping his hips hard as he bucked into him, the three of them moved together, only the sounds of sighs and moans and grunts filling the room as all of them came, pulling each other down, one after the other, until they lay naked and spent in each other's arms.

 

It was a few minutes before anyone spoke. "You okay?" Steve asked, his eyes carefully scanning all over Clint, those big hands cradling his face.

"Yeah, I'm good," he said, leaning in and kissing Steve, to reassure him. Just because he could, Clint grinned, kissing him again, feeling Darcy climbing up behind him, those soft tits pressed against his back. "How 'bout you?"

"Oh, I'm good," Darcy said, her leg winding around Clint's. "And you, big guy?" 

"I… I need a shower," Steve told them, mock seriousness in his voice. Reaching down, he smacked Clint on his sore ass. "C'mon, I bet we can all fit."

Steve was right. They all fit, not comfortably, but within a few minutes of getting the dirt and grime washed off their bodies, Clint saw Steve's erection had not been sated, still bobbing between them, still hard. A minute later Darcy was helping Steve roll a condom onto his cock and he lifted her effortlessly, sliding up and into her, pressing her against the shower tile. 

Clint watched from the other side of the shower, the stream of hot water hitting his chest as he stroked his own cock but he was beyond spent, happy to just watch how beautiful they were together - Steve's muscular ass flexing and contracting as they fucked, Darcy's head rolling to the side, biting as Steve's shoulder, those tits swaying and bouncing with each pounding thrust. They came shuddering, clinging to each other and Clint had never seen anything so perfect in his life - until they reached for him, tugged him close to them, kissing him, laughing with him as the shower water bounced off of Steve's chest and onto their faces. 

 

"Do we still need to talk?" Darcy broke the silence after they found their way back to Steve's bed. She'd braided her hair loosely, finding one of Steve's t-shirts, and sliding it over her head before she tucked herself into Clint's side, like before. But this time, Steve needed no prodding to wrap his long arms around them both. 

Steve kissed the top of her head. "I'm good." His eyes caught Clint's, and Clint realized Steve was talking about more than just the three of them together, about them being with Darcy. It meant them being with each other as well, partners in every way. There was no hesitation in Steve's voice, but his eyes… Steve's eyes held that small bit of worry, unsure what Clint was going to say. 

They were both looking at him. "First one up makes breakfast," he answered them softly, grinning at Darcy kissed his shoulder, Steve reaching over and stroking his jaw. Arms tightened around him, and he closed his eyes, feeling warm and safe and loved. 

Yeah. Clint was good.


End file.
